Broadsides
by Phantom on a Budget
Summary: Katherine Norrington, Commodore James Norrington's younger sister and self-proclaimed matchmaker, moves to Port Royale looking for a new beginning and to help her brother find love. ActionRomanceTragedy. NOW FINISHED! Ch. 31 revised.
1. Prologue

**BROADSIDES**

_Disclaimer: I would like to take this moment to say that the characters used from "Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl" are the property of Walt Disney. I do not profit in any way from their use. Original characters, however, are my property and would therefore appreciate them not being used by others. Ditto for the storyline. Don't take them…I bite hard._

_Author's Note: Don't go calling your optometrist just yet. The spelling of the word "lieutenant" is now "Lievtenant" because of the pronunciation of the word in the British Royal Navy. This spelling is accurate for the time period, and so I use it._

_ Thank you for reading, and enjoy!_

Prologue 

The mood was bleak, very bleak. Commodore James Norrington walked away holding his head high, but inside, his soul was troubled. He had left the dozens of soldiers and onlookers behind as he passed through the fort alone, making his way to his office with a slowing step and a heavy heart. Behind him, young Will Turner and Elizabeth Swann were finally able to admit their mutual love as they became locked in a passionate embrace. 

The long corridors of Fort Charles seemed to stretch endlessly on as the Commodore strode numbly toward his office.  He casually looked over to his left and studied the stone-lined walls before reaching out to trace the lines with his fingers.  Rough stone passed underneath his fingertips.  How cold they were beneath his touch.  It always amazed James how cool the inner expanses of the Fort could remain despite the dreadfully hot Caribbean sun outside.  

Norrington looked up as he continued down the darkening hall.  The stone was very much like him.  On the outside he was composed and collected no matter what the circumstances.  He was known for keeping his stone-like resolve even in the dead heat of battle.  His profound success in the Royal Navy and the Caribbean was a direct result of his ability and character.  Achieving the rank of Post-Captain at the age of 29, and being appointed Commodore at 31 were no small tasks and were certainly nothing to scoff at.  They were, in fact, nearly unheard of in His Majesty's Service.  Commodore James Norrington had nearly eliminated the pirate threat in Caribbean waters with his quiet tenacity and cool demeanor.

But how much of that could be interpreted as cold?  This thought troubled James as he retreated further into the Fort.  Elizabeth Swann, daughter of Royal Governor Weatherby Swann, was 20 years old and positively stunning.  There was not an educated opinion in Port Royale, Jamaica, that did not agree that the match between she and the Commodore was a fine one indeed.  Both were well respected and handsome in their own right, and wonderful things were sure to come out of such a union.  Every respected citizen expected it, and Elizabeth had come to accept her role as the daughter of a public official and wife of a high-ranking Naval officer.  The one thing she had not expected, however, was William Turner.  And pirates…

Elizabeth and Will had been childhood acquaintances, but grew up in two entirely different worlds.  Elizabeth's father ensured that she lived her life according to strict propriety, while the orphaned Will grew up in an apprenticeship to the town's blacksmith.  Both held affection for one another, but society prevented them from making such affection known.  It would seem as if they were destined to live in the shadow of a vast, bridled passion that was never to be explored.

That was until the events of a week prior.  The attack on Port Royale by a crew of cursed pirates ignited a string of events that would rattle the very foundation of everyone involved.  Elizabeth's heroics were complimented by Will's selfless flight to rescue her from the dangerous grasp of Captain Barbossa.  She discovered her love for him at the end of that perilous journey, but kept it hidden.  It was Will's actions to save the well-meaning pirate, Captain Jack Sparrow, from the gallows that prompted Elizabeth to no longer hide what she was feeling.  She loved Will and no other.  The truth came out at the expense of the one Elizabeth had promised her hand to, Commodore Norrington.

He had suspected that her acceptance of his marriage proposal that day aboard the HMS _Dauntless_ was made under duress, but did not admit it to himself.  At that point, she had been rescued from a deserted island where she was found with Captain Sparrow; the _Dauntless_, with Elizabeth, her father, the Commodore, his crew, and the arrested Sparrow, was about to return to Port Royale and leave Will Turner to his fate with the cursed pirates.  Elizabeth begged and pleaded for James to travel to the uncharted island destination and rescue the blacksmith and take the pirate threat, but he refused.  He refused on the grounds that he served others and not only himself.  He refused until she threw an unexpected blow.

_"Commodore!  I beg you, please do this, for me…as a wedding gift."_

How unexpected that was!  Norrington had gripped the railing in order to ensure his stance.  He looked down at her, completely taken by surprise, and gazed into her eyes.  Elizabeth's face displayed a hurt that could not be expressed in words at that moment.  She looked up at him, then averted her eyes to the deck.  

In retrospect, James could not decide if her expression of pain was because she could not fathom a life with him, or - and at less expense of James's pride – because she realized she was using him for his power.  His suspicion was nearly written on his face, but James conversed with Elizabeth afterward and he expressed his concern.  Elizabeth was soft-spoken, but her words rang in his head clear as the ship's bell.

_"Your answer would not change mine.  You are a fine man, James…"_

She had assured him with those 12 words that she did indeed mean to marry him, and perhaps saw him for more than just the uniformed figure commanding hundreds of nameless troops.  One thing James had noticed about Elizabeth in their eight years of acquaintance was once she announced her intention, she saw it through with all the fervor of the most passionate soldier.  Her spirit made her unique, and her heart made her the passionate individual she was.  But her heart was not his.

Having reached his office, Norrington walked to his desk and slumped into his chair. He removed his hat and wig and discarded them to the side, and rested his head in his hands. Elizabeth was now free to make her own decision. James had done the right thing; admitted defeat and graciously moved on. Even so, he could not help but feel as if he had lost the most important battle of his life. The woman he loved had chosen another, even when he had done everything correctly to the highest standards. 

_"So this is where your heart truly lies then?"_

_"It is."_

Those words rang in Norrington's head. He remained there at his desk for what seemed like eternity before he heard a timid knock on the door.

"Commodore, sir, are you alright?" asked Lievtenant Gillette nervously.

Norrington looked up slowly. The last thing he wanted at the moment was to be disturbed. Lievtenant Matthieu Rhodes Gillette had been Norrington's most trustworthy and dedicated officer for nearly eight years. He knew his superior's habits and personality in and out, and being concerned over his actions at the gallows, he had followed Norrington back to his office. Gillette stood outside the door awaiting an answer as he glanced to his left down the hallway to assure no one was in the immediate area. Having heard nothing, Gillette knocked once more, his concern becoming more and more evident. 

"Sir, are you well? May I enter?" he asked. Gillette's unwanted persistence forced Norrington to take action. He leaned back and absently raked his fingers through his short, dark brown hair, as he usually did when frustrated. Sighing, he said, "I'm quite alright. Thank you, Lievtenant."

"If you would permit me sir, I should like to come in," said Gillette, his tone growing more confident. He would be damned to see his commander wallowing in self-pity. The man did not deserve it. Gillette drew a breath and entered before Norrington even had the chance to respond. He closed the door behind him and stopped. Gillette was silent as he gazed in disbelief at his commander. There sat the Commodore looking forlorn, slumped in his chair, wig thrown to the side and hair disheveled. It was neither a common nor comfortable sight for Gillette to see. He looked down at the wooden floor as he searched for the appropriate words.

"My condolences, sir," started Gillette nervously.

Norrington glanced over toward Gillette and sighed. "I hope you are referring to our losses aboard the _Dauntless_, Lievtenant. I see no reason for them otherwise." The Commodore's words were emotionless. He looked away from the younger officer and stared out the window to his right. Gillette stood rigid as a board as he looked at Norrington. It was then, in that awkward moment, that he decided to drop the pretense.

"If it makes you feel any better James, I think you made the right decision," Gillette stated quietly. Norrington paused, and then turned slowly back to the Lievtenant. 

"Any decent man would have done the same thing, Matthieu," began Norrington. He drew a breath to continue, then decided against it. He merely stared blankly ahead.

"That's not the truth and you damn well know it," said Gillette firmly, stepping in front of Norrington to look straight at him. His tone was no longer that of an inferior and less experienced officer. To Hell with protocol. He saw how his friend was sinking into a black pit of despair, and he would not allow it. "Few men would have done what you did. It was very honorable of you." Gillette paused, unsure if he was speaking too boldly.

The Commodore rose and brushed a stray hair from his eyes before replacing both the wig and his hat, and walked toward the door. "Thank you for your concern, Gillette, I'll be fine. Prepare the _Dauntless_ and the _Navigator_ to sail first thing tomorrow morning." Norrington knew, however, that if the _Black Pearl_ had any head start, that catching them would not be possible. Not that he particularly cared. He was trying not to dwell on the fact that Sparrow had escaped, Elizabeth had refused him, and there was no hope of catching the _Pearl. Commodore Norrington, the great pirate hunter himself, lacked the heart._

Gillette seemed to sense his superior's thoughts and tried to mend the situation. "They say it is better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all, sir," he began softly. 

Norrington paused just feet from the Lievtenant and closed his eyes as he drew a breath. He turned to Gillette and looked into his eyes as he lamented, "Try it." 

With that, the Commodore exited the office and started back toward home, leaving Gillette to ponder those last, heartrending words.


	2. A New Beginning

A New Beginning

The sun shone brightly in the clear blue morning sky. Katherine Norrington stood on the starboard quarter of the English frigate _Carlton_ as she gazed out onto the crystalline ocean. She could now finally understand why her brother, James, had been so adamant about becoming a naval officer in the first place. Katherine felt free for the first time since she could remember. No expectations or burdens placed upon her by society. She only had to answer to the waves and the wind. She had left the stiff-necked framework behind her in England. She looked forward to living in the New World with her dear brother, and exploring where her talents could take her. 

Katherine was by nature adventurous and rebellious – a stark contrast to James. She disliked living a life in which she was constantly being told how to conduct herself appropriately. She was a fine young woman at 22 years old, very well educated and confident. She was tall and thin like her brother, with refined features and dark hair. She usually had one or two young men on her heels wherever she went, not to mention the suitors her parents constantly had lined up for her. Katherine rolled her eyes at the thought. She hoped to leave all that behind and discover adventure – and perhaps love – in the Caribbean. 

It had been three months since Katherine had last corresponded with James, and eight years since she had last seen him. Despite their differences, they had always been incredibly close, because they shared the common grief of living with their father. Edward Norrington was a successful doctor and London merchant who tended to run the household like he ran most of his ships. Though he meant well and provided a generous lifestyle for his family, he had strict expectations for his children. James coped with the enormous pressure by becoming strict himself. He worked so hard at everything he did, partly due to his meticulous nature, and partly due to his need for approval from the father figure. 

Katherine, on the other hand, lashed out at the tight regulations and expectations. She was a free spirit, and her carefree nature often clashed with her father's ideas of an obedient daughter and respectable member of society. She decided six months ago that she had enough of her dull life in England, and booked a passage to Port Royale, Jamaica, where her brother awaited.

Katherine smiled brightly when she thought of James. She loved him dearly. Indeed, the feeling was mutual. He looked over her like a worrisome older brother should. She seemed to be the only person he trusted enough to let his guard down some. They easily joked and laughed in each other's company, but she had always noticed a distinct change in his character once they were in public. He put so much pressure on himself that it hurt even Katherine to think of. Her thoughts shot back to his last correspondence. Apparently the young lady James had proposed to had turned him down in favor of another. _How dreadful_, Katherine thought to herself. There was no one on this earth she could think of that deserved a loving companion more than James did. Chances are he was now so busy doing his job that he had put the whole fiasco behind him. She figured that was his most likely course of action.

Katherine's smile quickly returned to her face. A new beginning awaited her in Port Royale, and she could not hide her excitement. She waited anxiously to see her new home and her dear brother. Her faced beamed like the bright sun in the sky as the _Carlton_ deftly made her way through the crystalline ocean waves.  She watched eagerly as the sailors moved about aloft, working the endless amount of rigging at dizzying heights.  Katherine moved about the deck with her finger trailing lazily along on the bulkhead railing as she studied the _Carlton's_ company.

Just off to the _Carlton's_ larboard second quarter was the HMS _Hambleton_, a new 32-gun frigate to be stationed with the Port Royale fleet and assigned to escort the unarmed _Carlton_ safely to their destination.  She was a small, but brilliant warship.  Her ornate prow pointed proudly westward as she cut effortlessly through the water.  Katherine followed the ship's lines with her eyes from the bowsprit to the taffrail.  The _Hambleton_ was of a deep navy blue color as all ships in His Majesty's service.  Her main gun deck was highlighted in a soft yellow and naturally drew the eye to the gun ports lying closed and silent.  Her stern was simple yet elegant and lacked the ornate decorum that adorned the sterns of larger, higher rated vessels in the Royal Navy.  Her three masts carried abundant sails that harnessed the wind, and her sleek hull allowed her great speed.  No doubt she would prove to be a useful weapon against the pirate threat in the Caribbean.

In command of the HMS _Hambleton_ was Post Captain Thomas Martin.  A veteran of the Royal Navy for 26 years, Martin was making his first voyage to the Caribbean.  He had spent most of his career in the North Atlantic and sailing between England and her North American colonies.  He was stationed out of the Massachusetts Bay colony for approximately three years and became quite intrigued with the native waters there.  The climate suited his cold demeanor as well.  Stocky, with naturally graying long hair tied neatly behind him, Martin gave an air of doggedness and tenacity from his very being.  He had seen several conflicts with privateers along the Atlantic waters, and boasted a solid record in battle.  His service record, however, was tarnished by several incidents throughout the years.  As a midshipman Martin was reprimanded for gambling, hoarding rum, and even charged with desertion while in port.  In reality he had taken liberty to seek the company of the local members of the fairer sex and had every intention of returning to duty.  His superiors, however, did not look highly on his behavior and he suffered the traditional punishment for desertion – flogging and immediate return to duty.

Martin eventually passed his exams and reached the rank of lievtenant, serving with several vessels before eventually achieving command of a sloop of war.  He was by no means looked upon highly by his superiors, and it took several years before they grudgingly promoted him to Post Captain and offered him the 50-gun HMS _Somerset_.  It was with this ship that he patrolled the waters off the colonial coast and earned himself a reputation as a gritty fighter and stern commander.  Upon his last visit to Portsmouth, Martin was given the _Hambleton_ and orders to sail for Port Royale where he and his new crew would be stationed.  

Captain Martin gritted his teeth and drew a slow breath while on board the _Hambleton_ as he looked out at the Caribbean waters.  He saw the move to a smaller ship as a demotion of sorts, and was nothing less of bitter at the new orders.  He felt an officer of his age and experience should be in command of a large ship of the line, not a flimsy 32-gun frigate.  Bitterness enveloped Martin.  Adding salt to the wound, he was to be under the command of a Commodore James Edward Norrington – a 31-year-old officer of whom Martin knew nothing about, nor cared to know.  The fact that his superior officer was 10 years _younger_ than he annoyed Martin to no end.  _How is it that I am weighted down whilst others are practically hoisted up the ladder of success?_ Martin thought through his narrowed gaze.  _I'll be damned to be humiliated in such a manner.  Those pigs in the Admiralty have no idea what it is to serve their country_…

"Land, ho!"  The cry from aloft interrupted Martin's fuming momentarily as he crossed the _Hambleton's_ deck and made for the helm.  "What land is that, Mr. Garret?" he asked as he strode toward his First Lievtenant.  

"By the charts sir it is the eastern edge of Jamaica.  According to our course and calculations, I suspect we shall reach Port Royale before noon."

"Very good then, Mr. Garret.  Carry on, and alert me when we near our destination," ordered Martin as he strode off toward his cabin for a moment of peace.


	3. Welcome to Port Royale

Welcome to Port Royal

Commodore Norrington was sitting as his desk, pouring over supply lists for the Port Royale fleet when a soft knock fell upon his door. "Commodore, the _Hambleton_ and the _Carlton _are docking now, sir." Norrington paused and looked up from the hoard of papers and placed his quill pen into its holder. A smile pulled at the sides of his mouth has he rose from the desk and gathered his hat and sword. 

Today was the day his dear sister, Katherine, arrived in Port Royale. Norrington glanced at his clock as he exited his office – half past noon. The HMS _Hambleton_ and the transport vessel _Carlton_ were on schedule and had no doubt chosen a glorious day to dock.

Norrington's spirit lifted as he stepped outside the fort and made his way toward the harbor.  He had not seen his sister for well over eight years and he was growing restless to see her once more.  The two had corresponded often since his move to the Caribbean, and began to speak of Katherine visiting about two years ago.  James knew she was a terribly bold girl who would do well in the New World, even though he only intended for her to stay briefly.  She natuarally protested, though he could not fault her for that.  Any chance Katherine had to spend time away from their stuffy home was time well spent in James's eyes.  He was well aware that she did not fit well in a society where women were often regarded as ornaments.  And, judging from her correspondences of late, that was exactly what father had regarded her as.

Edward Norrington was perhaps one of the more successful London merchants, largely thanks to his strict demeanor.  He never settled for second best and was constantly seeking improvement.  He had started out as a surgeon's assistant and became skilled in the medical profession before eventually purchasing his own schooner  and starting his own mercantile.  Though a well-meaning and good-natured man by heart, Edward Norrington's unwavering style affected his family to many degrees.  Thomas, the eldest son, came to expect nothing but the best from those around him, though he held no ambition to assist himself.  He naturally would inherit his fortune.  James however, would have to make his own fortune being the second son.  He joined the Royal Navy at the age of 17 and started what would be a promising career.  But he, too, came to accept nothing less than the best, but mostly from himself.  In order to keep up with his father's expectations, James's style became strict and meticulous, which afforded little room for error.  

Katherine, however, was an entirely different story.  Where James submitted and went about his duties to please their father, Katherine rebelled.  She was not about to be regarded as a prize for some suitor to claim.  No, someone would have to win her, and the only person to determine that victor would be none other than Katherine herself.  She was always somewhat unorthodox, James noted, and her character was fresh as the sea breeze.  Katherine became increasingly difficult as she aged and became more aware of the strict standards society meant to place upon her.  Whenever father expected her to behave a certain way, Katherine often chose the opposite.  When he wanted her to learn needlework, Katherine took up swordplay instead.  Whatever was the least proper for her to engage in, while still remaining respectable, of course, chances are she engaged in it.  Her antics gave James a good chuckle on more than one occasion, and now was no exception.

_Stubborn as a mule_, James thought with a smile as he continued toward the docks.  Above him, the sun shone brightly as polished gold, and the sky was the brightest shade of blue he had ever seen. The soft breeze filled the air with the sweet smell of salt water. The Commodore walked through the crowd with great purpose as he drew closer to the busy docks. 

In the harbor, onboard the _Carlton_, Katherine looked down onto the bustling docks of Port Royale. She smiled at the dozens of small crafts and their crews. Her eyes then drifted to the shore and scanned the gathering crowd for her brother, James. There was a mass of navy uniforms – some red, some blue. Katherine bounded forward to the ship's prow, hoping to find a better vantage point.

Meanwhile, on shore, Norrington found Lievtenant Gillette standing motionless, obviously staring at something on the British frigate. The Commodore smiled to himself as he discovered the reason for Gillette's unchecked stare. There stood Katherine at the _Carlton's_ prow, eagerly searching through the crowd. Her long, dark hair swayed in the gentle sea breeze and her face was beaming with excitement. Norrington carefully stepped up behind the preoccupied Gillette.

"Beautiful, is she not?" he asked. Gillette jumped slightly with surprise, and turned to find his commander standing smugly over him. Gillette regained his composure and turned back to the lovely woman and allowed a small smile to invade his expression.

"Whoever she is sir, she is positively stunning," said Gillette, trying to remain proper.

"I was referring to the _Hambleton_, Lievtenant," stated Norrington, gesturing to the dock just off to their left were the new Navy ship was moored. The Commodore did enjoy mocking his first officer from time to time, and seeing it was such a glorious day, he saw no reason to refrain. He smirked as he saw the tension in Gillette's stance.

"Of course sir! The _Hambleton_ is a lovely vessel, sir," blurted Gillette nervously, trying to cover his blunder. He was not sure if the Commodore had caught on or not. 

But the Commodore certainly had. Norrington smiled once more as he looked back up to Katherine. "Though I certainly agree about the young lady, Lievtenant. She is a fine young woman. Then again, I suppose I should know – she is my sister, after all." Norrington's smile grew wider as he waved his right arm to catch Katherine's attention. It appeared to have worked, as she immediately waved back and disappeared from sight as she made her way to the gangway. The Commodore stepped forward to meet her, but not before looking back to Lievtenant Gillette, who was now utterly red with embarrassment. For some reason it became very difficult for the young Gillette to swallow.

"I…I apologize, Commodore. I did not know sir!" he stammered.

Norrington simply chuckled and turned back toward the dock in time to see Katherine running toward him. She made no attempt to hide her excitement as she approached. _Typical_, Norrington thought. His sister was never one to mask her emotions.

"James!" Katherine shouted with glee as she ran up and wrapped her arms around the Commodore, practically toppling him over. Gillette looked on with curiosity, only feet from the reunited siblings. Never before had he seen his commander so jovial. The Commodore's usual expressionless manner had been completely replaced by smiles and candor. He could not help but wonder how this rather open and daring woman was related to the conservative, meticulous Commodore. _No matter_, Gillette thought, Katherine was extravagant. However, she was still the Commodore's sister. Gillette knew that he was walking on dangerous ground. He must keep his growing attraction to Katherine to himself - he did not want to fall under the Commodore's scrutiny. 

Katherine finally felt compelled to let go of Norrington. He stood back from and studied her for a moment. It had been eight years since he had last seen her. "My God, how you've changed Katherine. You look wonderful," he said, still smiling.

Katherine, in turn, stepped back and studied James. She ran a finger down one of the gold-trimmed lapels of his uniform. "As do you, Commodore," she said, being careful to emphasize his title. She gazed up at his faced and shook her head, still smiling. "I should have known you'd never change." Katherine paused, mockingly. "Except for the wig…" she said, her eyes narrowing comically. 

Norrington flashed a smile. It was evident she had not lost her sense of humor. The two were silent for a moment before Norrington suddenly remembered Gillette standing off to the side. He turned and took a step toward Gillette, bidding Katherine to follow.

"Katherine, may I present Lievtenant Matthieu Rhodes Gillette of His Majesty's Royal Navy. Lievtenant, this is Miss Katherine Norrington." The Commodore stepped back to allow the two to exchange pleasantries. 

Gillette stood dumbfounded, lost in Katherine's beauty. He then felt the Commodore's steady stare and snapped to. "Welcome to Port Royale, Miss Norrington. It is a great pleasure to make your acquaintance," started Gillette carefully, trying not to stumble over his words. "I must say I have never served with a finer officer than your brother. He must make your family quite proud."

Katherine's smile never faded from her face as she glanced from Gillette over to James. "Yes, he has indeed. It is my pleasure to meet you, Mr. Gillette. I do hope that I will be able to spend more time in your company," she said, holding her hand out. 

Gillette bowed and took her hand, gently kissing it. He looked back up to her and seemed to forget all the activity happening around him. "As do I. I must say, you are stunning, Miss."

"Too bold, Lievtenant," Norrington said. His smile was gone, and his stern glare now rested squarely on Gillette. The young officer quickly turned back to his commander in alarm.

"I, I apologize profusely sir. I did not mean to seem forward."

Katherine immediately stepped between the two. "It is quite alright James," she assured him, looping her right arm in his left. She turned and smiled at Gillette. "Besides, I have a present for you from England." Katherine turned back toward the ship, urging James to do the same. The three turned back to the _Carlton_ in time to see a magnificent dapple grey gelding being led down the gangway. Norrington's eyes narrowed in disbelief at the sight of the horse. Though it was a rarely known fact, the Commodore had a great love for horses and fox hunting. It had been years since he had sat on an animal remotely as stunning as the grey parading toward him. The smile slowly returned to his face as he looked down to Katherine.

"He's from the finest bloodlines in all of Northern Ireland," she started proudly. "Mother thought it would be an excellent gift, seeing that there are no fine Irish horses in this area."

"Yes, the horseflesh here is seriously lacking," stated Norrington, his gaze returning to the horse.

"I took the liberty of naming him Darby, though you may change it if you so desire," Katherine said, looking up at James. She then looked back at the approaching grey. His head was carried proudly and the whites of his eyes showed as he pranced on the dock, eager to stretch his legs after the near two-month voyage. The two soldiers handling him, Privates Murtogg and Mullroy, were nearly knocked off the dock from Darby's exuberance as he tried to trot off. They finally regained control and looked over to the Commodore.

"He's a spitfire sir, that's to be certain!" exclaimed an exasperated Mullroy. 

Norrington chuckled. "See that he's settled in my stables, Mr. Mullroy, perhaps let him in the paddock for a run. Now," paused Norrington, turning back to Katherine, "let us off to my house for some lunch. I'm sure you are exhausted from the voyage."

"Quite," said Katherine as she looked up at James. The Commodore and Katherine bid Gillette a good day, and headed off to catch up on eight years of lost time.


	4. Lost Time Between Them

Lost Time Between Them

Katherine gasped when she caught sight of her brother's house. The stonewalls of the large structure stood out in beautiful contrast to the crisp blue sky. She absently ran her left hand along the tops of the flowers as they passed through the garden. James opened the front door and entered the expanse of the wood-floored foyer, Katherine following eagerly behind. She gazed around her new surroundings and smiled in approval.

"This is a lovely home, James. So quaint," Katherine's words trailed off as she peered into the adjacent rooms. She squealed with delight when she saw the view out of the sitting room window. "How delightful! If that view is not begging to be painted, than I am not sure what is," she said. Katherine had always been a talented artist. She spent much of her time painting when not dodging suitors that her father dutifully – and unfortunately – chose for her. Her gazed wandered from the expansive window to the walls of the sitting room. Katherine paused when she saw two of her paintings on the wall. One was a hunting scene while the other depicted a ship sailing off, surrounded by a bright sunset. Both were gifts to her brother when he departed England eight years ago. Katherine slowly reached out a hand and delicately touched one of the frames.

"I cannot believe you've kept them all this time," she said in wonder, finally taking her eyes off the pieces and turning to James with pride. 

James smiled before walking up to her, his hands behind his back in his usual manner. "They are gifts from a very dear friend of mine," he said as he looked down at Katherine. "I would never dream of having them anywhere else." 

Katherine looked up at her brother, tears welling in her soft brown eyes. The eight years of loneliness and frustration had finally risen to the surface. Her life in England was a never-ending cycle of repression and expectations – expectations she had no intention to meet. Finally she was with the one person who understood her feelings and what it was to be a Norrington. Katherine fought back the tears, and chuckled at her own struggle before finally succumbing to her emotions and flinging her arms around James. She openly cried on his shoulder. "I've missed you so," she mustered between sobs.

James closed his eyes and held his sister close. He, too, felt more complete and at ease now that Katherine was here. He had built up a wall around him – a wall of strict duty and dignity. Because of his position and his downright meticulous nature, his guard was constantly up and he found it difficult to connect with other people on a personal basis when his duties commanded nearly all of his attention. Most thought him snobbish or cold; Katherine, on the other hand, knew the reason for his character, for she, too, coped with it throughout her life. He could only imagine the pressure she had dealt with. The intolerable ideals of society placed more of a burden on women than most cared to acknowledge. But Norrington knew his sister was strong. He let her cry out her burden in the privacy of his home, as he was sure it was not often she was allowed to do so.

Finally Katherine pulled back and smiled as she wiped the remaining tears from her face. She smiled, partly due to a slight hint of embarrassment, but mostly due to the feeling of her soul being free. She looked up at James, the brother and friend she had waited so long to see. Katherine paused while she searched for the right words to say. She finally flashed one of her mischievous grins and removed James's hat and powdered wig. "Take that damned thing off…you look ridiculous," she said, trying not to laugh.

Norrington merely chuckled at his sister's playful tone. She laughed as if she had not laughed in a great deal of time. Eight years, perhaps? Same for him. He simply did not have time nor cause to laugh. She did not have anyone to laugh with.

James introduced Katherine to his servant, Mr. Decker, several of the staff, and Katherine's maid, Mary. The two then sat down to a long lunch began to talk. James was interested in hearing about the happenings at home; Katherine was more inclined to discuss Port Royale and her future. 

"Thomas had his second child just before I left. Another little girl," stated Katherine of their eldest brother.

James looked across the table to Katherine. "I'm sure he is devastated to not yet have a son," he said, somewhat mockingly. Thomas was certainly not the favorite member of the family. His ego was about the size of England itself. "How is the old devil, anyway?" James was only half-interested in the welfare of his eldest brother. 

"Pompous as ever," began Katherine, with little emotion. "His head swells so much, he must buy a new hat every two weeks I swear." James chuckled at his sister's sarcasm. It was a trait the two of them shared and demonstrated quite often.

Upon finishing, James and Katherine retreated to the sitting room. She gracefully sat herself down on one of the couches before surrendering to its softness and stretched out, giving a large sigh. "So dear brother, what do you do for pleasure here in the Caribbean?" Katherine asked, tilting her head in James's direction. He merely smiled as he continued reading through some supply lists for the Port Royale fleet.

"I do enjoy spending countless hours either in my office or on ship straightening out the mess that have become of the supply lists," he mocked. 

"Mother is inclined to think you're constantly out gallivanting after pirates and heathens. For sometime she thought you had become one yourself," stated Katherine with a slight hint of sarcasm in her tone.

"Yes, well…Mother has not visited the Caribbean recently, so I doubt she would know," established James as he glanced up from the papers. His tone was undoubtedly sarcastic. "I say 'ridding the world of pirate activity' and she always manages to turn it around into 'I've decided I _do_ like pirates after all and wish to join them in their merry ways.'" He sighed and shook his head as he returned to his notes.

Katherine laughed out loud at her brother's comment. Indeed, their Mother had a knack for turning stories around and confusing herself. Katherine smiled as her thoughts returned to her brother's profession and the freedom she felt while on the ocean. "I should like to sail with you one day," she said, gazing up at the ceiling. She suddenly remembered Gillette. "Is Lievtenant Gillette your first officer?" Katherine asked curiously.

"Yes he is, actually. Fine officer indeed, highly dedicated. Misguided at times," James paused as he remembered Gillette's blunders on the dock, "but a good man to have around." His tone seemed to return to more of that of the Commodore than Katherine's brother, and she frowned. James had mentioned Gillette in previous correspondences, but Katherine was delighted to see what he was like in person. He could not have been more than 28, she figured. His character was well meaning and unintentionally comical. She smiled at the thought of Matthieu. He obviously seemed interested in her – she saw it in his eyes. She had seen many suitors and young men look at her as a trophy, a beautiful girl only. All of them had failed to see who she was deep down. Katherine wondered if perhaps Gillette's seemingly kind nature would be right for her. 

Katherine glanced over to James and was about to say something about Gillette when she saw him dutifully studying the papers. She paused as she studied him. A hard working, utterly dedicated man such as himself deserved someone. He was nine years her senior and still had not married. She wondered what was to become of him.

Katherine decided to break the silence as she jumped up off the couch and grabbed Norrington's left arm and dragged him out of the chair. "Let us go for a walk, James. It is such a lovely day I would hate to waste it sitting inside. Besides," she paused, a wide smile invading her expression. "You have to give me the grand tour of Fort Charles and Port Royale!"


	5. Good Day, Governor Swann

Good Day, Governor Swann

Katherine quickly spruced herself up in a mirror as James gathered his sword, wig, and hat. She smiled to herself as she glanced back out the picture window and down to the bay. _What a glorious place_, she thought.

Moments later the two were walking through the garden and toward the road. Katherine paused and bid James to stop as she gazed out into the large, green paddock. There was Darby, James's fine new Irish mount, galloping and bucking ceaselessly around the edge of the enclosed area. His fine grey coat shone like polished silver as his large frame glided over the ground effortlessly. James could not help but notice the horse's size.

"What is he, 17 hands? Wonderful bone substance I must say," he said, noting the horse's solid conformation. 

"Just shy of 17 hands actually," started Katherine as she gazed at the captivating animal. "Mother thought a taller horse like Darby would suit you – he'd take up your leg quite well I'd imagine." A quaint little smile grew as she looked up at her brother.

"Indeed. Between the lack of fine horses and my duties I regret I have not had the time to ride often," James paused and smiled slightly as he studied the horse's exuberant behavior. "He is quite the rogue, isn't he?"

"He is only six years old…I suppose I failed to mention that," Katherine said quietly, though she knew James would not mind. He was quite good with horses. "And of course, he's been on a ship for the past two months. I doubt you can blame him for wanting to burn off some of that boundless energy!" Katherine chuckled under her breath, for she was feeling the same way. She, too, had spent the better part of two months cooped within those wooden walls, and now that she was finally off and out of the suffocating grasp of her parents, she felt eager to explore her newfound freedom. 

"No, I do not suppose I can," Norrington stated as he flashed another quick smile and offered his left arm to Katherine as he continued through the garden. Within a few moments they came to the road and continued on past several lovely properties, before finally arriving at a gated mansion. Katherine silently took in the beauty of the structure and its surrounding gardens as her brother led her through the gate and up the drive. She could only imagine who inhabited such a fine estate.

"James, would this be Governor Swann's house?" she asked, careful to keep her voice down. 

"That it is," said James quite plainly. "I thought it would be best to introduce you to Governor Swann and his daughter, Elizabeth. I'm sure you will find them both quite amiable." 

_Elizabeth…wonderful_, Katherine thought in disgust. This was the girl who had dashed James's hopes three months prior. Katherine had obviously not corresponded with James between now and that last heart-wrenching letter and she was unsure of how he was coping with the torment. Outwardly, he was as composed and focused as ever, but she knew that he was never one to disclose his emotions to others, and it troubled her greatly. Katherine had little interest in meeting this girl to put it bluntly, Governor's daughter or no. But, then again, Katherine did not know the entire story…

James led a reluctant Katherine up the stone steps and briskly knocked on the door. She was shocked at his apparent indifference at socializing with the woman who had refused him, but she kept quiet and attributed it to James's characteristic, dutiful nature. Even through the most personal tragedies of his life he managed to stand rock solid and emotionless. _That is a wonderful quality for a naval officer_, Katherine thought, _but not for heartbreak._

After a moment or two of waiting, a servant answered the door and asked them in. Katherine quietly studied the expansive main foyer and elaborate staircase, and noted one or two rather large portraits of what was probably the Governor. 

"Commodore Norrington, my good man!" greeted Governor Swann. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company this fine afternoon?"

Norrington turned on his heel to see the Governor descending the staircase toward him, with a surprised smile on his face. Norrington smiled quickly in his usual manner and addressed his host.

"Good afternoon, Governor. I must confess my visit is not entirely pleasure, though I would like the opportunity to introduce someone to you," Norrington stated, his hands behind his back and his tone official. Katherine stepped forward. "May I present my sister, Miss Katherine Maureen Norrington, just arrived from England this afternoon." Norrington smiled quickly once again, and stepped aside as the Governor approached.

"It is a great pleasure to meet you, Your Excellency," said Katherine with the greatest air of propriety. She smiled as she offered her hand.

"'Your Excellency' is not needed here, Miss Norrington. 'Governor' or Mr. Swann will do quite well. And the pleasure is all mine," Governor Swann said kindly as he took her hand and kissed it formally. He certainly seemed harmless enough to Katherine. The Governor was a pompous man, but equally kind and well meaning. He had very little knowledge in military matters, of which Norrington was quite thankful for. He hated people looking over his shoulder and questioning his authority. As a seasoned officer of the line, Norrington knew his duties, tactics, and responsibilities. The last thing he wanted was a self-serving politician telling him how to run his command. Periodic updates and discussions were all that were necessary for the Commodore to keep the Governor informed and happy.

"And how was your voyage, Miss Norrington? You certainly chose an impeccable day to arrive," said Governor Swann with a broad smile on his face and his usual, joyful tone.

"It was lovely," started Katherine. "Apart from the occasional storm and ensuing illness, I should say it was rather enjoyable." 

Governor Swann smirked at the young woman's candidness. "A love for the sea and a dry sense of humor…I suppose things _do_ run in families," he said, glancing to Norrington. 

"Commodore, what a pleasure to see you!" Immediately Norrington looked up to the top of the staircase to see Elizabeth standing there, obviously acting upon pleasantries. Katherine, too, glanced upward and noticed a fine young lady now descending toward her. She put on a smile as James walked forward to greet Elizabeth.

"It is always a pleasure, Ms. Swann," Norrington said as bowed and kissed her hand. _Always the gentleman_, Katherine thought. She would have been liable to deck the girl one, not bow formally to her. 

Governor Swann smiled as he acknowledged Elizabeth. He then held out his arm and glanced toward Katherine. "Elizabeth, may I introduce Miss Katherine Norrington, the Commodore's sister. She just arrived from England this afternoon." The Governor paused for a moment before continuing, "Katherine, this is my daughter, Elizabeth."

The two young ladies stepped forward to greet each other as they exchanged pleasantries. Katherine was two years older than Elizabeth and was quite prepared to write her off as another brat, but she could see in Elizabeth's eyes that she was not a puppet like most girls their age. Katherine was sure it would take more than a few exchanged words to establish who this girl was and what she stood for. From the little information James had departed to her about Elizabeth and the "adventure" as he had so dutifully put it, Katherine gathered Elizabeth was more on the adventurous side of things as well. _We shall have to see about that_, Katherine thought.

The four were about to take tea in the Governor's sitting room when a hurried knock fell upon the door. A servant answered and Lievtenant Gillette appeared in the doorway, his face flushed from an apparent hard ride. Norrington turned in surprise and took a step toward him.

"Commodore, sir, pardon my intrusion…" started Gillette between breaths. "You're wanted at the Fort to meet with Captain Martin, sir."

Norrington paused and placed his hands behind his back.  "I sent word for him to take tea with me this afternoon, could he not wait?"

"Oh no..." Gillette started, shaking his head and forcing back a smile.  "The Admiralty sent you a fine one.  Making a fuss and ranting to high heavens how he should not have to wait.  Stupid old buzzard...we all thought it best to simply come and get you before he declared war on Spain or some idiocy such as that."  Matthieu glanced over to the Governor and Elizabeth, who were listening to the discussion and looking at the Commodore with amusement.  

James looked over his shoulder.  "Governor, I apologize for this..."

Weatherby smiled and waved his hand.  "No need to apologize, Commodore.  So, I assume this is Captain Thomas Martin, straight from Portsmouth?"

Norrington nodded.  "I'm afraid it is.  From what I hear, he may be a difficult character."

"He insulted the _Dauntless_," Gillette noted with a hint of annoyance.  "Wanted to know why she was at anchor if the threat of pirates was so imminent."

James quickly glanced back to his second.  "An officer with his service record and command of a frigate has no place criticizing how I run my first rate."

"He wouldn't know a first rate if it came up and bit him..." announced Gillette as he straightened his stance and folded his hands behind his back, a smug grin crossing his face.

"That is _quite_ enough, Lievtenant," Commodore Norrington declared.  He paused as he turned back to look at Katherine, trying to decide what to do with her. He then turned back to Gillette and nodded. "Right then. Lievtenant, I want you to escort Miss Norrington to the fort and wait for me there, if that's acceptable to you," James asked, glancing at Katherine. She nodded in approval. Norrington turned back to Governor Swann and Elizabeth, "I apologize for my hasty departure. Perhaps our business may wait until next time. Good day Governor, Elizabeth…" With that, the Commodore walked outside, mounted Gillette's bay mare, and cantered off toward the fort.

Katherine glanced over to Gillette and smiled, trying not to give away her thoughts. "Perhaps we should take our leave then, Lievtenant," she suggested. Turning back to the Governor and Elizabeth, she bid them farewell. "It has been an honor in meeting you both. I hope that we may see each other soon in the future. Good day, Governor Swann." 


	6. Lievtenant Gillette

Lievtenant Gillette

Lievtenant Gillette dutifully offered his right arm to Katherine as they exited the Swanns' mansion. He smiled smugly to himself, not realizing she was doing the same. They had not made 10 feet from the door when Katherine decided to strike up conversation. "My brother is quite favorable of you, Mr. Gillette. He says you are a fine officer."

Gillette's inward smile grew much larger. "I am honored to hear that, Miss Norrington. The Commodore is without doubt one of the best officers I have ever worked with in my career…"

Katherine turned to Gillette. "We may dispose with the pretense, Mr. Gillette. Please, call me Katherine," she said matter-of-factly, being careful to soften her tone toward the end. Gillette turned to look at Katherine and opened his mouth in surprise. 

"Very well, Katherine. You may call me Matthieu if you so desire," said Gillette. He was pleased with Katherine's forward behavior; comical or not, calling her "Miss Norrington" sounded like he was courting the Commodore. Gillette smirked at the thought, and then quickly realized that Katherine _was_ the Commodore's sister. _Good God! You must be very careful now, Matthieu_, he thought. Fancying the younger sister of his commanding officer was certainly not Gillette's idea of climbing the promotional ladder. Or climbing any ladder, for that matter. If Commodore Norrington found out Gillette's feelings for Katherine, he'd be liable to break Matthieu's damned legs. Gillette drew a hesitant breath as they started back down the road toward Fort Charles.  At her request, he began to describe his long professional relationship with James.

"I suppose it was about eight years ago now that we met.  I had come over to Port Royale on a brig out of Plymouth, and James was a lievtenant aboard the HMS _Dauntless_.  I was a midshipman at the time.  He was a great help to me, I must admit.  My French heritage does not always earn me favors with crew members.  James made sure no trouble came out of it."

Katherine looked up to him thoughtfully.  "No trouble comes out of it now, does it?  I've heard you are quite respected amongst the crew."

"I suppose I am.  We have good men here, and that is a blessing.  I suppose my tongue gets me into more trouble now than my blood does," he remarked with a slight grin.

Katherine chuckled.  She was thirsty for insight about this young gentleman, and was quite pleased at his genuine and kind demeanor. As Norrington said, Gillette was honorable, dedicated, highly respected amongst the crew…that paired with her judge of his character made her enthusiastic indeed. She desired neither riches nor fame; Katherine deeply wanted someone she could talk to on a personal basis, trust, and love. She looked up at Gillette – his kind, round face was now bright red with embarrassment and nerves. Katherine smiled to herself. She could not help but picture she and Gillette living a wonderful, adventurous life together. Then she snapped back to cold reality. _Slow down, Katherine,_ she thought to herself. _You've conversed with him for perhaps five minutes! Do not go making wedding invitations!_ She scolded herself for thinking too forward. Katherine then thought of her brother, the Commodore, and frowned. James would have a fit to hear her thinking like this, and Lord knows what he would say to Gillette. She thought it best to remain proper, for the sake of Gillette's well being and her brother's sanity. The last thing he needed at this time in his life was to discover his sister was in love with his second in command.

"You have a lovely name, Matthieu," Katherine stated as she looked on down the road.

"Thank you. My father's parents were French. Grandfather was a merchant, and he moved to England before my father was born to broaden his shipping interests," said Gillette, nodding to himself in approval. He carefully thought out every word he said to Katherine. He would hate to make a blunder in front of her. He then frowned at the subject matter. "I hope I am not boring you, Miss….Katherine. I regret my family history is not entirely thrilling."

"It's quite alright!" said Katherine with a smile. "My father is also a shipping merchant. He is looking to retire now, of course, but he was quite successful in his day. I do believe that's where James…The Commodore…gets his love for the sea," continued Katherine, reminding herself to call James by his title in public.

"He failed to mention that," Gillette said quietly.

Katherine looked down momentarily and drew a slow breath. "No, I don't suspect he would have mentioned it…He's not one to disclose personal matters to others." She paused before continuing. "Father is also the source of the Commodore's strict demeanor and damn perfectionism. Father ran the household like one of his ships, unfortunately."

Gillette tilted his head back for a moment, and then looked on ahead. It was certainly interesting to have insight into the Commodore's past. He had always wondered why Norrington was so conservative and strict - not so much on his men, but on himself. Interesting indeed. But what was more perplexing was Katherine's personality – apparently the complete opposite of the Commodore. She commanded every ounce of Gillette's attention when she was around, and he found it quite difficult to breath around her. This was only the second occasion in which he had spent any time with her, the first being short and quite guarded due to the Commodore's presence. Even so, Gillette could not help but feel a certain knot in his stomach, a sort of flutter in his heart…could it be he was in _love_? 

Gillette quickly shook it off and reminded himself that he was escorting the Commodore's sister to the fort, not out on a social call. He stiffened slightly and put his left arm behind his back, trying to look every bit the naval officer. Katherine noticed his change of posture and chuckled under her breath. "I suppose you are probably wondering how I am possibly related to the Commodore, and why I'm here in Port Royale," she started slowly.

Gillette turned to her and paused, unsure of what to say. "No, I wasn't…I mean yes, I suppose I was. You are his sister, of that I am certain," blurted Gillette. His tongue stopped dead once he realized what had just spilled out of his mouth. His face turned bright red as he silently cursed his blunder.

Katherine merely laughed at the comment. "I am his sister, I assure you!" she managed between chuckles. "No, I meant our personalities, rather. We are quite different."

Gillette gathered his composure up once more. "I did not want to pry, Katherine. It is really none of my business," he said quietly. 

Katherine flashed a smile. "You would certainly not be prying. I would like to tell you, if you did not mind." Katherine continued as she described her household, the past eight years in England and the countless number of suitors she had seen, and finally leaving for Port Royale to discover herself and perhaps find love. It nearly became a game for her – the young men competing for her while in England found a much harder catch than they were willing to fight for. A trophy wife Katherine would never be. She was destined to marry for love, whether dear Father approved of it or not.

Gillette was intrigued. "But what of your family? Should you marry someone of lesser income, would you not be cut off?" he asked, trying to remain polite.

Katherine paused and looked down. "James would understand," she said slowly. She knew it to be true. James himself had given up Elizabeth to allow her to marry for love, when he had every right to her. He knew what it was to be in love, and would never cut his ties with Katherine should she decide to follow that path. Gillette nodded. He knew that beneath the cool, expressionless demeanor of the Commodore laid the heart of a family-oriented gentleman. _Very interesting_, Gillette thought. 

Minutes later the pair arrived at Fort Charles. Gillette led the way through the corridors toward the Commodore's office. He paused and bid Katherine to stop as well – there was something he had to say, and he wanted very much to say it without being within an earshot of Norrington. The Lievtenant paused and looked down momentarily as he carefully chose his words. He closed his eyes briefly as he drew a nervous breath. "If you will permit me, I should like to call on you again," he said with a smile. 

Katherine looked up as a bright smile slowly crept across her face. "I should be delighted," she started quietly. Her tone was soft and joyful. "It has been a great pleasure spending time with you, Matthieu."

Gillette's smile grew as Katherine spoke. "Believe me Katherine, the pleasure has been all mine," he said as he gently took her hand and kissed it like a perfect gentleman. "Good day Katherine, keep well." With that, Lievtenant Gillette retreated around the corner and down the corridor. His heart raced and he was sure that if he smiled any more, his face would shatter. Gillette felt as if he was walking on air as he entered his office. He gleefully tossed his hat onto the first open chair and fell into his own as he put his hands behind his head and gazed out the window. He smiled ear to ear as he studied the glorious sunset.

Katherine watched with a smile as Gillette walked away. He looked as if he was dancing. She hastily turned around to head to her brother's office when she came face to face with the sharp, gold trimmed white and blue of a Navy uniform. _I know those lapels_…she thought. Katherine slowly glanced upward and flashed an innocent smile. "Hello James," she said sweetly. 

Norrington stood there with his hands behind his back as he looked down at Katherine. His eyes jumped to look down the corridor, then rested back on Katherine. He drew a breath, then paused in thought and looked up. When he finally spoke, his tone was most certainly that of the Commodore, with a hint of sarcasm. "You've known the lad for perhaps 20 minutes and you are already calling him _Matthieu?_"


	7. The Duel

The Duel

Katherine drew a breath and dropped her hands to her sides. She glanced up at James and then proceeded to look off to her right as she thought of what to say. She turned back to her brother who stood there like a stone, silently demanding an explanation. Katherine smiled. "Lievtenant Gillette was kind enough to escort your dear sister here, and so I thought it appropriate to make better acquaintance, 'tis all."

Norrington stood fast. His displeasure was well written on his face as he looked on down the hall after Gillette. "Even so, I would prefer –"

"You would prefer what, James?" Katherine interrupted with a taste of impatience. She sighed angrily before grabbing the Commodore by the coat sleeve and dragging him back into what she presumed was his office. She was quite perturbed now at her brother's tone and could easily guess what he was about to say, for she had heard her father say it many times before. Katherine shut the door before she continued. "Good God, James…I called him by his Christian name! I hardly think I committed a crime, _Commodore_, especially considering I bid him to call me Katherine first." She crossed her arms as she defiantly stood her ground. 

Norrington rounded on her at the mention of his title. He was slightly hurt that his sister was angry enough to address him as such, especially with that biting tone. He suddenly realized his posture and demeanor _was_ that of the Commodore, and not of Katherine's brother. He immediately could see the reason for her attitude, and he dropped his arms to his sides and drew a slow breath as he regained his composure. "I simply do not think it's entirely proper, Katherine. You must give these things time."

"Time?" asked Katherine with disappointment. "You have spent your entire life trying to be proper, James, and look where it has gotten you."

James blinked and quickly looked away. He could not believe what his sister had just said. "That is terribly unfair, Katherine." His words resounded of dejection. Katherine immediately realized the implications of what she had just said as her expression went from defiance to empathy. She quickly held out her arm as she took a step toward him. 

"James, I'm sorry! I did not mean it like that. I was frustrated about…I don't want to hurt you," she stammered as she took hold of his left shoulder and looked to the floor. "That was unfair of me, James," Katherine slowly continued. "You've done impeccably well for yourself. I should hate to see you end up like father, that is all. Affairs of the heart just require a little…trust, I suppose."

"Yes, well, I've already been on the losing end of such affairs already, if you don't mind my saying," declared James as he leaned back on his desk, his tone expressionless as usual. Katherine looked at him for a moment before throwing her arms around his shoulders. 

"I think you need to talk to me about this," she said quietly.

"Talk to you about what?" James inquired as he turned his head toward her.

"Don't even try it," demanded Katherine. Her tone was stern. "You know damned well what."

James sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "And why must I do this?"

Katherine let go and moved in front to face him. "Because you are Commodore James Edward Norrington, and knowing you, you have not spoken to a living soul about your feelings. Not to mention that I am your sister, and will not hesitate to make your life exceedingly difficult until you tell me what the Hell has been going on with you." 

James shook his head slightly. But Katherine was not finished. She slowly reached for the sword at his side and unsheathed it delicately before stepping back and holding it to his throat. "I challenge you to a duel," she said firmly. "A nice little bout between siblings. If you win, I shall conduct myself like the perfect gentlewoman around Mr. Gillette and uphold your standards. If I win," Katherine paused before continuing, a triumphant little grin spreading across her face. "You tell me every thought and feeling that has been troubling since you gave Elizabeth up."

Norrington stared incredulously at the blade at his neck. It was harmless at the hands of his sister, but it was effective at proving her point. His glance moved up to Katherine's face. Her unwavering expression conveyed quite clearly that there was no way out of this one. James glanced up at the ceiling again and sighed, "Agreed."

"Good!" Katherine's smile broadened as she brought the blade back down and studied it. "It has been so long since I had a decent sparring partner." It was true – Katherine was a decent swordsman. James had taken it upon himself to teach her the art on her eleventh birthday.  Indeed, she had scared away at least a handful of unwanted suitors by challenging them to a duel in good fun. Good fun it was not, for usually the gentlemen ended up retreating with their tails between their legs. Certainly a useful tactic as far as Katherine was concerned.

The two returned to Norrington's estate for the festivities. As Katherine retreated upstairs to change into something a bit more appropriate, James rummaged through some of his older weapons and found a sword suitable for Katherine. Minutes later, she returned wearing one of her lighter dresses and leather gloves. They walked out into the secluded back garden and the contest began.

"On guard, Commodore," said Katherine through her smile.

"Oh look, Katherine Norrington has come to vanquish the - "

"James, shut up and put up your sword," interrupted Katherine. Norrington chuckled as he raised his weapon and awaited Katherine's first move. Her first attacks were quick and accurate, but as where his parries. The two exchanged multiple blows. Katherine knew James was about as talented as they came.  She, on the other hand, was a bit out of practice.  James had taught her quite a lot about swordplay, but seeing that she was a woman, she rarely had the opportunity to tune her skills since his departure for the Caribbean.  She deflected another of his attacks and paused as she smiled.

"Excellent form there," said James. "Might I inquire who you practiced with these past few years?"

"No one in particular, though an occasional spar with Thomas," Katherine began. "Mostly I've been fighting off suitors."

James flashed one of his typical smiles. "And how did you go about doing that?" he asked curiously.

"Simple," began Katherine. She raised her sword once again, and James did the same. "By using a unique little trick I developed for that specific purpose." James's eyes narrowed as he pondered her next move. He did not have much time to think, however, as her attack was sudden and decisive. She aimed squarely at his stomach, and as James went down with his saber to deflect, Katherine quickly rolled her wrist and brought her blade up and over his, forcing it down. The next thing Norrington knew was the unique sensation of a blade at his throat. He paused for a moment in disbelief before smiling and looking at Katherine. His smile quickly faded, however, when he realized he had just lost. He scoffed at himself and shook his head.

Katherine grinned from ear to ear as she watched her brother's expression change. It was time for him to keep up his end of the bargain. "I think it is about time for us to have a heart to heart discussion, dear brother."


	8. Heart To Heart

Heart To Heart

James closed his eyes as admitted defeat. _Damn, damn, damn!_ he thought as he cursed himself. _That will teach you for falling for one of Katherine's bloody tricks…_He swallowed hard and brought his hand up to slowly move Katherine's blade away from his throat. Katherine smiled triumphantly as James gathered himself up to return inside. He sheathed his saber and looked at her, flashing a smile, though inside he was all but smiling. 

Katherine saw him hesitate, and promptly sighed as she looped her right arm around his left and held it securely as she led him inside. James stopped and stood by the chair as she turned away to remove her gloves and place her saber on the floor. They both sat and paused for a moment. The smile faded from Katherine's face, as she could not help but notice James's grim look of foreboding. She refused to give in, however; she was going to get him to open up if it took every gun on the _Dauntless_ to do so. 

Katherine sighed and flashed another one of her smiles at James, hoping to get him to relax. "So…feel free to tell me any thing that has been troubling you James," she started. Silence. 

Norrington crossed his arms and shrugged, signifying that he had nothing to say. "What would you like to know?" he asked innocently, though he knew perfectly well what his sister was trying to achieve.

Katherine rolled her eyes and let out a frustrated breath. "_Please_ don't play these games with me, James! Talking to you is like trying to scale the outer wall of that damned fort of yours."

"Well it has worked out quite well for us thus far," he mocked in reference to the walls of Fort Charles. A broad grin grew on his face as he toyed with his sister and delayed the purpose of the conversation. Katherine, however, was not amused. She was attempting to have an honest conversation with her brother, and his attitude was not getting them anywhere. She leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees as she stared at the floor in disappointment. 

"I know what you've been going through, James. There's no sense in pretending it did not happen or had no effect on you. So let us just dispose of the damned pretense, shall we?" Katherine looked up in time to see her brother sink deeper into his chair. James's expression quickly changed from sarcasm to frustration as he looked around the room. He slowly removed his hat and let it fall in his lap as he rested his head in one hand. Norrington felt like a caged tiger, being forced to sit there and discuss something he normally went out of his way to avoid. Growing up in the shadow of his strict father had taught him one vital lesson: there was no room for emotion. Duty was duty and one's personal feelings did not have a place in success. James had lived with that during the most influential years of his life and quickly discovered it had become part of him. His demeanor was emotionless and focused both shipboard and on land. They were traits that served him beautifully at sea and in his duties, but hindered him greatly when trying to make a personal connection with anyone. And here was perhaps the one person he had ever felt any real connection with – his sister, Katherine. She, too, knew what it was to grow up in that household and knew the reasons for why James behaved the way he did. She looked at him now, slumped in his chair, and felt sorry for him. _Is it really that hard?_ she thought. _Of course it is…knowing what he has to deal with, I suppose he's used to communicating strictly in orders. _Katherine shook her head and pitied James for his obvious discomfort. 

"Good God, man, I'm not interrogating you," stated Katherine of James's grim expression. She smiled slightly as she moved over on the couch and bid James to join her. He paused for a moment before rising and moving across the room to join his sister. Once he was seated, Katherine moved closer and took hold of his left arm and placed it on top of the couch as she leaned up against him, eventually resting her head on his chest. She remained silent for a moment as she studied the elegant, gold-trimmed lapels of his uniform. She opened her mouth to continue, but decided against it. Instead, Katherine wrapped her arms around James and buried her face in the brilliant fabric of his uniform.

"What on earth are you doing?" he asked suspiciously.

"Nothing. I…" Katherine paused as she turned her face so that she could look out the window. "I just remembered that it's been eight years since we've spent any time together, and here I am badgering you. I'm sorry James - I do not know what you've been feeling, but trust me when I say that I am here whenever you need me and want to discuss something," she said softly. She left it at that, as she knew James was equally as stubborn as she was, and the only thing to come out of a forced discussion was frustration on both their parts. Now that she was here, her brother would open up and seek her out when he saw fit.

Norrington's gaze shifted from Katherine to the darkening horizon as he put his feet up on the coffee table and sighed. She felt better know he was more at ease. Discussion would come later – right now she wanted nothing more than to be close to the one friend she had so dearly missed over the past decade.

"I suppose I was quite beside myself," Norrington started softly, his voice monotone. Katherine glanced upward, but refrained from sitting up. She would let him say what he wanted to without being disturbed. "Elizabeth was the only woman I had ever loved. But then again, the problem was that she did not love me. I did everything I thought was right, and she still said no…" Katherine flinched as James's words trailed off. She held him closer as he sighed and spread his right hand in an expression of repressed confusion.

"I was so sure of her motives when she accepted aboard the _Dauntless_ that day, but did not want to admit them to myself. She only accepted my proposal in order to save that boy, not because she had any feelings for me – it makes perfect sense." Katherine's eyes shot wide open. _Elizabeth accepted his proposal!? He never mentioned that_…_How could someone do such a thing with no intention of keeping that promise? Even if she did marry James, she would never love him as he did her. That is a damned lie in itself_, she thought furiously. Katherine drew a breath and tried to relax as her brother continued. It was as if he was talking to no one – his gazed was focused on the window, his tone unwavering and soft. She watched as he lightly dragged his fingers along the arm of the couch.

"I figured she could learn to love me, but when I saw the way she looked at the damn boy I knew, I just…" Norrington sighed sadly before continuing. "I had to let her go. The entire mess was a bloody lie…"

Katherine was at a loss for words. It was one thing to be rejected, but another to be led on. James had suffered far worse treatment than she had thought. She lifted her head and turned to look at him, then leaned down once more and rested her head back on his chest. When she finally spoke, her tone was soft and hopeful. "There's someone out there for you, James."

"I should hope so…otherwise I'll be likely to end up a miserable wretch like father, only miserable and alone."

Katherine slowly shook her head. "You'll never end up like father. You're too good for that. You are a fine man, and the only reason why you do not have a line of fine women is simply because there are too few on this silly island, that those who do dwell here cannot get their noses out of the air long enough to notice."

Soon after that came dinner.  Upon completing the fine meal, Katherine took her leave and went to bed. It had been a long day for the both of them.


	9. The First Ride

The First Ride

It had been a week since Katherine's arrival in Port Royale, and already she had been quite the stir. People of all over the town were wondering who this fine young woman was. Norrington had personally escorted her around every part of the area he deemed appropriate, though Katherine made plans to investigate the less glorious areas at one point or another. 

It was a bright Saturday morning. James was enjoying early tea as he read through one or two letters that he had received. One came from his mother in London, while the other was from an old Navy friend who was currently stationed in Virginia. Katherine also had a letter from England, and it lay on the table awaiting its recipient to wake up. James read through both and made some quick mental notes before setting down his cup and gathering his hat. The mission this morning was to assess Katherine's gift.

James stepped outside into the garden before turning and looking up at the second story balcony. Katherine was most likely still asleep, as the two of them had a late night at Governor Swann's dinner. _I don't think I've ever met a man so much in love with the sound of his own voice_, James thought of the Governor. _Damn well talked me into a coma last night…_Indeed, the Governor was up in arms about usual government news and had used his trusted Commodore as an outlet. Norrington rolled his eyes at the thought, then smirked as he continued on toward the stables.

Darby greeted James with a soft nicker as he walked in the fine stone building. He pulled a piece of corn from his pocket as he approached the stunning young animal. Darby's beautiful dapple-grey coat caught James's eye. _It is a bloody shame they never stay that color_, he noted to himself. He chuckled as the soft grey muzzle searched his pockets for more hints of food. "Well I think I know what the quickest way to your heart is," James joked of the horse's insatiable appetite. He reached up and gently patted the horse's neck before heading off to gather his tack.

James took great care saddling the young gelding as he made notes as to how the animal reacted to him. He took his gold-trimmed blue saddlecloth and practically threw it at the horse's side to test him. Darby jumped forward slightly in surprise, but rightly stood fast. Norrington was pleased. He repeated the practice around the horse's flanks and head, each time Darby giving only minimal reaction. "Good man," James approved and rubbed the horse's neck. He placed the cloth on the horse's back and put the saddle on top. Things were going beautifully until he discovered that the girth he had picked out did not quite extend far enough to reach the saddle. "I've waited an entire week for this, so you _cannot_ tell me this does not fit…" James huffed in frustration. After a good minute of pulling and readjusting to no avail, he turned around and rummaged through older tack trunks, finally finding equipment large enough for the solid Irish horse. "If this does not fit, you're going straight back to Ireland," James stated sarcastically as Darby looked at him curiously. Once the saddle was finally secure, James gathered the bridle and threw the reins over the horse's head. Darby promptly threw his head in the air in one last desperate attempt to avoid work. James grabbed the horse by the nose and quickly bridled him as he offered another bit of corn as a reward. They were off.

James led Darby out into the enclosed paddock to assure they would be able to work in peace. He quickly brushed off his riding boots before checking the girth and letting down the stirrup irons. James mounted with care. Darby moved off immediately, perhaps before his rider was ready. "Patience there, sir…" James soothed as he held the horse back. Darby's attitude changed immediately once he had stepped outside. He raised his head and snorted quite loudly at the soft breeze. One week of daily turnout had still not quite expelled all of his collected energy. James merely shook his head and smiled slightly at the horse's awaiting exuberance. "Let me just establish a few basic rules first, seeing that this is our first ride…no biting, no rearing, no kicking other expensive animals or people, no throwing me into fences unless I honestly deserve it, and no flipping over." James nodded as he asked the horse forward. Darby's energy welled up and finally exploded at his rider's request, and he lifted his front end off the ground into a relatively shallow rear. Norrington instinctively thrust his hands forward to give Darby more rein and pushed the horse onward with his legs. The grey gelding responded by stepping right off into a bright canter. James smiled and shook his head as he allowed the horse to gallop off the energy. "Bad Darby…what did I say about 'no rearing?' Ireland is only a two month trip away, my friend."

Meanwhile, Katherine had just woken up to the sound of the breeze blowing through her window and …a horse snorting? Katherine quickly rose and threw on a robe as she opened the doors to her balcony. From there she could see the paddock where the magnificent grey was galloping about, undoubtedly with her brother aboard. _What is he doing out there, riding alone? What, is he afraid someone will see him? _Katherine laughed to herself as she retreated back to her room to dress and surprise James at the barn with her presence. 

James was finding Darby to be a wonderful mount, once the explosiveness was reduced. He was large at 17 hands and solidly built like most Irish horses. But despite his size he was perfectly light in the bridle and responsive to all of his rider's aids. The suspension in his gaits surprised James, as did the level of training. For an imported six year old, Darby was exceptionally talented. James was putting him through some drills when Katherine showed up by the fence. 

"Throw him Darby! Land him on the ground!" she yelled. Katherine burst out laughing at her brother's expression.

"He already has quite the handle on that, and doesn't need any encouragement from _you!_" James declared. He reined Darby to a quick halt before pivoting him around on his haunches to face Katherine.

"Well you're smiling so he can be all _that _bad, James," she jested.

"Impeccably well balanced," James noted. "We had a minor disagreement in the beginning, but we've since moved on. Would you like to have a go?" he asked as he swung down from the horse.

"No, thank you. It looks as if he's had quite enough already. I was planning meeting Matthieu today for lunch."

Norrington paused and looked at Katherine. "You're meeting Lievtenant Gillette for lunch, are you?" His tone was matter-of-fact and short.

Katherine sighed. "Yes James, I am. If you should like to come, you're most welcome."

James turned to her and flashed a sarcastic smile. "If you believe me to be overbearing, than inviting me to lunch is not the best way to get rid of me."

"You're not _overbearing_, just…You know what? I'm not having this conversation with you right now," Katherine declared. She did not know if she should smack James one or laugh at him. "I'm going to meet Lievtenant Gillette for a quiet lunch and perhaps a short stroll afterward. If you feel like you need to keep a leash on me, than you're welcome to join us. If not than I expect you'll be busying yourself with ships or horses or whatever it is that you do in your spare time," she finished with a smile.

"And when did the two of you decide upon this?" asked James as he loosened Darby's girth and ran up the stirrup irons.

"When we saw him two days ago while we were touring the _Dauntless_. Did he not ask you if he may take me out?"

James looked back at Katherine with his eyebrows raised. "Of course not. I would expect that a gentleman such as Gillette would be kind enough to seek me out first."

"Well perhaps he was busy and forgot. Or was too nervous to ask you. Personally I do not think I could put either past him," said Katherine with a sweet smile. 

James sighed. "Matthieu is a fine man to have around. I just wish that if you pursue anything, that you do it slowly. You have a letter, by the way. It's on the table in the parlor."

Katherine looked back at James and smiled. "It's lunch James, he's not proposing. So may I call him 'Matthieu' or shall I call him by his full rank and duty number?" She grinned broadly as she taunted her brother.

James let out a slow breath and shook his head at Katherine. "Unbelievable," he said in his most sarcastic tone. "Do enjoy yourself. But I expect you to be back by two o'clock. Otherwise Darby and I will have to hunt the both of you down."

Katherine returned her brother's sarcastic grin. "Aye, Commodore!" And with that, Katherine turned on her heel and headed back inside to prepare for her rendezvous with Lievtenant Gillette, leaving James standing outside with Darby. He looked at the grey gelding and rested his hand on the horse's neck as he looked him in the eye.

"And I thought you were the rogue." James smirked once more before leading Darby back to the stable.


	10. Rendezvous

Rendezvous

Katherine retreated into the parlor and found her letter waiting for her on the table. She smiled softly when she noticed who had sent it. "My dear Melissa," she whispered as she sat on the sofa and opened the envelope. 

_"My Dearest Katherine,_

_I trust I find you well in the Caribbean. I received word from our former school acquaintances that you would be moving down with your brother, James, and thought it best to forward this letter to you there._

_How long it has been! The past years have flown by, if you do not mind my saying. Life here in Portsmouth has been quite dull, even more so without the company of my dear friends. I lament that father passed away three years ago, leaving my younger brother, Marcus, and I to live with our uncle, Mr. Joshua Meyerson. I was certainly devastated, but now take comfort in the fact that he and mother are united once more, and under the careful watch of our Lord. Whenever the sun shines, I think of their faces and gaiety. _

_I regret that I have not contacted you sooner. However, I have a wonderful piece of news to share with you. Uncle has recently made arrangements to move his mercantile fleet to the Caribbean in favour of the weather and new markets. What port has he decided as a base, you ask? None other than Port Royale! I was thrilled to hear such news. We are to depart this coming Monday, the 19th of August. I suspect by the time you receive this letter that I will be well on my way aboard the "Cavalier." She is a fast frigate and will undoubtedly make good time. I do hope you stay well._

_Yours,_

_Melissa Ann Reynolds_

Katherine laughed out loud with glee. Melissa was a dear friend of hers that she had met whilst away at school. She was two years older than Katherine and certainly departed much wisdom and kindness to her younger acquaintance. The two were well matched in character; though Melissa was nowhere near as outgoing. The tall, blonde young lady Katherine remembered was always content to settle for a quiet conversation than a daring adventure. However, they both shared the same desire for love and a need to share their emotions. 

"What the devil are you laughing at?" inquired Norrington as he strolled into the parlor. He removed his hat and placed it on the table as he looked over the couch at his sister. Katherine turned to him and smiled. She was so busy thinking of Melissa that she had not even heard James come in.

"You and that ridiculous wig you wear," she jested. James merely sneered at her and then chuckled. "No," Katherine continued, her tone soft and light. "I was just reading a letter I received from an old acquaintance of mine. Melissa Ann Reynolds. I don't think you'd know who she is – I met her whilst I was away at school. Charming lady." Katherine paused as she glanced at the letter in her hand. "Do you know of a Mr. Joshua Meyerson?" she inquired.

James paused as he loosened his cravat and walked to the couch. "I do believe he is the Portsmouth merchant we will be receiving shortly. He has two brigs and a frigate he will be basing out of Port Royale. Why do you ask?" 

Katherine looked up at him and smiled. "Because, he is the uncle of dear Miss Reynolds, and it seems she is joining him in Port Royal. If it's not too bold to say, James, I think she would be a lovely match for you. Attractive, honest, kind as the day is long…and not nearly as loud as I."

"That _is_ too bold, dear sister," James stated as he turned back toward the table and paused. "Though, if she's not as bothersome as you I suppose I shall have to meet her."

Katherine gasped comically and then swatted James on the arm. "You're incorrigible!" Norrington simply chuckled and walked back toward the table. Moments later a knock fell upon the door and Mr. Decker appeared in the parlor doorway. 

"Lievtenant Gillette to see you, Commodore." Norrington turned to glance at Katherine and sighed as he fixed his cravat once more and started toward the main entrance. He already knew Gillette's purpose, but he had a few words to exchange before he went gallivanting about with his sister. The exacting air of the Commodore quickly replaced Norrington's jovial demeanor as he approached the door and the waiting Lievtenant. Gillette instinctively drew a breath and straightened himself up as he saw his commander approaching.

"Good day, Commodore," said Gillette as he saluted. "I come to ask your permission to call upon Miss Norrington." Gillette paused and waited for the Commodore to answer. His heart was indeed racing and he could feel his breaths becoming shorter and shorter. He subtly studied his commander's expression. He knew Norrington well, having spent eight years on the line under his command, and could tell now that the Commodore was not the least bit thrilled about the situation. "I profusely apologize for not coming to you sooner sir. I did not wish to disturb the two of you this past week, and I regret I have been quite busy…" Gillette's words trailed off as he slowly glanced to the ground.

"No need to apologize, Lievtenant," started Norrington, his tone emotionless as if he were on the deck of the _Dauntless_. He motioned with his left arm for Gillette to walk with him. Gillette stepped down from the front steps and walked alongside the Commodore as they stopped in the drive. He began to grow slightly nervous as to what his commander was about to tell him.

Norrington turned to his trusted first officer and quickly place his arms behind his back in his typical manner as he looked up and searched for the appropriate words. "You are a fine officer, Matthieu, and a gentleman. So…" the Commodore paused as he looked Gillette straight in the eye. "I trust that I will not have to remind you how to conduct yourself appropriately in the company of my sister."

Gillette nodded. "Of course, James. I shall take the greatest care with her." He hoped beyond all hope the Commodore could not hear his heart beating feverishly inside his chest. Norrington nodded slowly and then turned and started back toward the door where Katherine stood waiting. She smiled when she saw Matthieu. 

"Mr. Gillette! It is such a pleasure to see you. Are you ready?" she asked with a joyful air. They quickly exchanged pleasantries under Norrington's watchful eye and departed for a quiet lunch at one of the Port's smaller restaurants. They chose a small table by the large picture window that looked out onto the docks. Katherine looked over the offered dishes, unable to decide what to order. Gillette smiled.

"The chicken is always delightful here. They usually prepare it with cheese and a wonderful spice sauce…" Gillette found himself grinning stupidly at the thought and quickly wiped the expression off his face.

"What on Earth are you grinning at?" asked Katherine playfully.

"Oh, umm…well…I suppose I do love the food here," he stammered quietly as he looked at Katherine from across the table. He then flashed a nervous smile as he wondered what exactly he had just said.

Katherine merely tried to contain her laughter in the public restaurant. She shook her head as her smile broadened and looked down at the table.

"What's wrong?" Gillette asked. 

"Nothing! Nothing at all, Matthieu. You make me laugh, that's all," she stated as she glanced back up to him. 

Gillette let out a nervous breath and smiled once more. "I tend to say silly things from time to time, I'm afraid," he started as he looked down to the table. "I regret that I am much more comfortable giving and receiving orders than taking ladies out to lunch." 

"That's quite all right! If I can get the Commodore to relax, I doubt you'll be much trouble." Katherine then turned to the approaching waitress and ordered her chicken. Gillette had the same, and the two ate and enjoyed a pleasant conversation about the weather and the Port Royale fleet, of which Gillette was equally as proud as Norrington was.

"So how many guns does the _Dauntless_ have then?" inquired Katherine.

"One-hundred and six, to be precise," stated Gillette with pride. "She's a first rate ship-of-the-line.  Though she's technically rated as only having 100 guns.  We're experimenting at the moment with the gun size on her quarterdeck and forecastle.  She possesses three gun decks, and the guns range from 32-pounders to 24-pounders, 18-pounders, nine-pounders, and some six-pounders, but again, we do not count those as we're in the middle of replacing some.  We use various types of projectiles too.  Round shot, grape shot, and the chain and bar shot is used to bring down enemy rigging and whatnot.  She is certainly the pride of the British fleet and one of the most feared ships in the Caribbean," he said, realizing Katherine probably did not share his fervor. 

"What is that grape shot you speak of?" she asked, confused.

"Oh, it's anti-personnel fire. Since many of the battles are fought hand-to-hand, we often fire the grape shot to clear off most of the enemy deck before boarding." Gillette paused once more to control the widening grin on his face. 

"Sea battles sound dreadfully exciting," Katherine said. 

"They are our chance to prove ourselves," Matthieu noted.  "Captains like your brother all ready have their command.  Fighting and taking a prize vessel is a chance for secondary officers such as myself to gain command and promotion, if only temporary.  That is, of course, if one manages to avoid being horribly wounded in the melee."

"Well, it seems you have done quite well for yourself thus far, Matthieu." 

Gillette nodded in agreement as they finished their meal and stepped out into the sunshine. He offered his arm to her and they walked together across the town and up the sloping, grass-covered hill of the bluff that overlooked the bay. From there they could see for miles out onto the crystal blue ocean. Katherine sighed in satisfaction as she took in the view.

"I shall have to remember to paint this scene," she said as she looked out to sea, a distant smile on her face.

Gillette turned and studied her. "I did not know you were an artist, Katherine. You must be quite talented."

She turned back toward Gillette and took hold of his right arm. "I'm afraid neither of us no much about each other Matthieu," she said softly as she sat down on the soft grass. Gillette hesitated for a moment, and then joined her. He paused and slowly drew a breath as he opened his mouth to speak.

"I hope I am not being too bold, Katherine, but I feel I must say this," Gillette's word's trailed off as he looked into Katherine's eyes. Her soft, kind expression drew him in like a mythical siren. Her brown hair shone in the bright sunlight as he looked into her radiant face. He was utterly speechless for what seemed like eternity. "I cannot deny my feelings for you. Ever since I first saw you on the _Hambleton_ that day, I have been at a loss for words and unable to keep from smiling. I…" Gillette paused as Katherine took his hand in hers and smiled. 

"I can't help but feel the same way, Matthieu. I've met so many young gentlemen in years past, but none have ever cared about me. I see something in your eyes, Matthieu, that draws me to you." They smiled at each other as Katherine inched closer and looked into Gillette's eyes. She titled her head slightly as she leaned in and kissed him. 

Her lips touched his with great care and restrained passion. Gillette instinctively drew away to break it, but soon found that he did not want to. He then kissed her as well. Excitement and pleasure invaded his being as his lips met hers. That was, however, until all hell broke loose.

_"Lievtenant Gillette!_ On your feet man!" 

Gillette instantly moved away from Katherine at the sound of the infuriated voice. His heart nearly stopped as he looked up and found Commodore Norrington standing only yards away. His expression was full of both anger and disappointment. Gillette flew to his feet and stood at strict attention as the Commodore strode up and looked down upon him, only inches from Gillette's face.

"Just what in the bloody _hell_ do you think you are doing?" Norrington spat, a pulsating venom in his voice that Gillette had never heard before. If there was ever a time to fall upon one's sword, it was now. At least then Gillette could avoid the wrath of an angry and protective Commodore Norrington.


	11. Hear Me Out

Hear Me Out

"Answer man!" growled Commodore Norrington. Gillette stood fast, staring at attention past the Commodore and making sure not to look him directly in the face. Norrington was enraged when he saw his sister and his most trusted officer on the grass, kissing for all to see. On their first outing together, no less! He was deeply disappointed with Katherine for being so insolent, and equally disappointed with Gillette for going against his word to be careful with the young woman. Norrington could only stand there, infuriated, as he held back his desire to throttle Gillette for all he was worth.

"James, stop it!" yelled Katherine as she ran up and stood between the two officers. James took a step back and stared past her to Gillette. "The blame is all on me – I kissed him first."

"Of all the people on this God forsaken planet…" said Norrington as he looked Gillette square in the eye. "You call that the conduct of a gentleman? You gave me your _word_." Gillette drew a breath and stood to his full height as he took the Commodore's verbal assault without flinching. 

"James, enough!" snapped Katherine once more as she grabbed the Commodore by the coat sleeve and dragged him away. She turned to face him, her frustration now matching his anger. "You need to listen to me for one moment, James Norrington. Matthieu had nothing to do with this…"

"Kissing is not a one person activity, Katherine. He is equally guilty of inappropriate conduct as you are. The both of you gave me your word, and then proceeded to disregard them just as quickly."

"I gave you nothing! And you…stop playing jailer.  You are not my father," said Katherine with a deep, serious tone. James looked away and clenched his jaw. "It is my bloody decision James, not yours. You seem quite content to ruin the bond between us, and the friendship you have with Matthieu, all for what, some obscure notion called honor? Are you afraid I am going to _dishonor_ you, James?"

James quickly turned to her and paused. "That obscure notion you speak of I have spent my entire life pursuing. It runs much deeper than the quick passions of some damn fling. This," he paused, pointing at the spot where he had found them, "is _not_ the conduct of a lady."

"So you would prefer a medal over my happiness?" asked Katherine with a desperate air of exasperation. She shook her head slowly.

"That is _not_ what I said," corrected Norrington as he stepped closer to her and gently grasped her arm.

"But it is what you implied!" she cried as she shrank away from his touch. Norrington paused and looked at her in disbelief as she backed away. He stood speechless for a moment before glancing at the ground.

"Never…I would die for you, Katherine, you know that…I simply do not want to see you hurt."

"I would never hurt her, sir," interrupted Gillette. There he stood, tall and confident, as he looked the Commodore straight in the eye. This was his chance to prove himself for his commanding officer and longtime friend. He took a step toward them. "Commodore, we have served together in many campaigns, bled together, sir….I would give my life for you, as I'm sure you would give your life for me. And I am true when I say I would lay my life down or whatever was necessary for Katherine if it were asked of me. I would _never_ hurt her, sir."

Norrington rounded on Gillette and took a step toward him, trying to keep his voice at a civil tone. "I do not believe this is the time nor the place to discuss this, Lievtenant."

Gillette drew a breath and looked away momentarily. "You asked me to conduct myself as a gentleman, sir, and I believe I have done so."

"And I most certainly did not ask for your opinion," affirmed Norrington as he stepped toward Gillette once more, staring at him much the way he did when standing off with Turner that day at the gallows. 

Gillette stood fast and returned Norrington's glare. He could understand why James was being so protective of Katherine. She was perhaps the only person he felt such a close connection with, and it would not be surprising for him to fear losing her. Gillette drew another slow breath and softened his expression. "Respectfully, James, I think it best to approach this like the dignified gentlemen we are. Please, hear me out."

Norrington's eyes narrowed at Gillette's words. "Positively not…" he declared as he looked down directly at Gillette's face. James put his hands behind his back and paused as he hovered over the Lievtenant, his demeanor dripping with silent authority and power. He then began to turn back toward Katherine to lead her away.

"Listen to him James," said Katherine quietly.

Gillette paused as he watched Katherine step up in front of James and take hold of his left arm. He gathered up his nerve and continued. "I realize that I am being forward James, and I apologize. But I feel I must say this in order for you to understand. I am becoming aware that I am fashioning very strong feelings for Katherine. I ask you – not as the Commodore, but as James Norrington – for your permission to court her."

Gillette stopped and gazed into Katherine's shining eyes. She smiled back at him, astonished at his sudden declaration and confidence. They both then turned and looked up at Norrington. His expression had drained of the flaming rage, but his air of superiority was still quite detectable. Katherine held his arm tighter as she gazed into his eyes. He stared Gillette down as those words rang in his head. She gently patted his arm before moving to Matthieu and standing proudly beside him.

Norrington merely stood there like a statue as he studied the two across from him. He looked off to the right for a moment and slowly shook his head. 

It was at this very moment that Sergeant Wilkins came running up the hill and hastily saluted the two officers. Wilkins hesitated for a moment as he noticed the annoyed expression of the Commodore. He quickly shook it off and delivered his important news. "Commodore, sir. Miss Norrington…" Wilkins paused to acknowledge Katherine. "Pirate activity has been reported off Port Hudson. Two merchant vessels have already been preyed upon and whoever it is, is now moving east. Straight into the shipping lanes, sir."

"Very well then, alert the men, Mr. Wilkins. I want them ready to sail with the _Dauntless_ and the _Hambleton _within the half hour," instructed Norrington. With that the Sergeant saluted once more and dashed off to Fort Charles. Norrington watched him depart before turning back to Katherine and Gillette with purpose. "Katherine, I shall send for a carriage to take you home. Gillette," he paused, as he looked straight to his second. "Ready the _Dauntless _and send for Captain Martin to bring the maps to my office. We're going hunting." The Commodore turned to Katherine to escort her back to the Fort when he stopped and looked at the two of them. The anger had dissipated from his being, but he was still strict and superior. "This discussion is far from over."


	12. Pirates Ye Be Warned

Pirates Ye Be Warned 

Norrington quickly made his way back to his office once he had seen Katherine to a carriage. It pained him to think about how he had left her with the argument and such, but there was nothing he nor Gillette could do. Personal matters were quickly disregarded with the threat of pirates about. Even so, James could not help but examine the awkward situation over and over in his head as he gathered his maps and pistol. He still could not believe that he had found Gillette – Lievtenant Matthieu Gillette, his trusted first officer – with Katherine. It was entirely forward of the younger officer to even allow such a thought to pass through his head. Norrington shook it off and reminded himself to focus on the important task at hand. Something about the circumstances did not sit well with him, but it would take a quick study of the coordinates to find out what.

Captain Thomas Martin and various other officers were gathered around the planning table as Norrington rounded the corner and made his way up the stairs. "Commodore," said Martin as he saluted. The other officers followed. "I really must protest this haste," continued Martin with an air of impatience. "I do not feel it is necessary to rush out for what seems to be two isolated incidents of petty theft…"

"Isolated incidents or not, Captain Martin, they are not petty theft," established Norrington with his usual confidence as he placed the maps on the table and turned toward Martin, the annoyance growing more apparent in his voice. "And I must admit I am quite disappointed at your tone. Our purpose here in Port Royale is to protect innocent communities and ships within our territory. This season in particular is especially busy for the merchant trade. I'm sure many innocent people died in these two 'isolated incidents,' as you so casually refer to them. If you do not feel it necessary to perform your duties simply because your annual leave begins tomorrow, perhaps it would be best if you stayed behind and had Lievtenant Pearce take the _Hambleton_ out for you." With that, Norrington turned back toward the maps to analyze the situation with his officers.

Martin stared after the Commodore. _Do not even think of taking my command from me you damned twit,_ he thought. Martin was 10 years older than Norrington, and was frustrated to say the least when he arrived in Port Royale and learned that he would be serving under a younger officer. At his age and lenth of the experience in His Majesty's Navy, Martin expected to be in command of a third or perhaps even a first rate vessel.  Instead, his attitude earned him several reprimands from the Admiralty and the command of a mere frigate.  To Martin, his transfer to the Caribbean and to Port Royale was seen as another slap in the face.  The Captain stood back in the corner and narrowed his eyes in displeasure as he watched Norrington hover over the table as he studied the coordinates. Yes, his leave did start the next day. Martin had sailed from England with the frigate, HMS _Hambleton_, and had spent a week settling into his new post at Port Royale. It seemed to be a never-ending line of troop reassignments and constant re-fittings on the ship herself, so a vacation was greatly anticipated. Martin had spent much of his career in the North Atlantic, and had made his share of crossings to the American colonies. But he had never before been to the Caribbean, and so he did not quite appreciate Norrington's fervor for pirate hunting. Come to think of it, he did not appreciate Norrington's opinion in anything. Martin resented falling under the command of a much younger man, especially this late in his career. In Martin's opinion, the sea could never be tamed, nor could the rogues that sailed upon her. It was a bloody waste of energy to be gallivanting about trying to save every ship and every piece of cargo. 

"Judging from the approximate positions of the two hits and the estimated time in which they took place, we've calculated that the rogue vessel should be a half day's sail to the southeast, sir," started Lievtenant Pearce. "Witnesses described the vessel as having only two masts.  A brig, sir. No unusual markings or colors."

"Do you know how many 'normal' looking brigs are out in these waters?" inquired Norrington as he spread his arms out and leaned on the table. 

Pearce and the other officers looked to the Commodore. "Sir?"

Norrington shook his head as he studied the coordinates intently. "This does not sit right. Unless our witnesses are sadly mistaken and our estimations are incredibly off, there is little chance the same vessel could attack two ships so far away, so quickly. And a mere brig taking two larger merchant vessels?  No," he paused as he stood back up and tossed his pen onto the table. "This is the work of two ships, gentlemen. It is my belief that someone is collaborating to draw us out for an ambush." Gillette, Pearce, and the other officers all looked up from the map to Norrington. The situation made perfect sense.

Gillette was the first to take action, as usual, as he stepped out from behind the table and toward Norrington. He put the day's emotions behind him as he looked to his duty. "What are your orders, sir?"

Norrington paused before turning to Gillette. He, too, was putting the events from earlier behind him for the time being. The Commodore needed his trusty Lievtenant to be on his side for this upcoming conflict. "I want the _Dauntless_ to go out on this one. Whoever this is out there, I suspect they are planning for us to sail a frigate and not a first rate. Although," he paused as he turned back toward the brooding Martin. "I see enough cause for the _Hambleton_ to go as well. They've already preyed upon two ships; let's not make either of ours the third." Norrington nodded and gathered his hat from the table. "Ample troops on both vessels, step up the watches and guns at the fort. Ready the _Navigator_ to act as guardship for harbor patrol in case these bastards come back us," Norrington looked up at his officers. "Understood?"

Gillette and the others quickly agreed. "Aye, sir!"

The Commodore glanced down once more at the map. "Very well then. Lievtenant Pearce, I want you on the _Hambleton_ with Captain Martin. Lievtenant Gillette, you're with me on the _Dauntless_. Dismissed, gentlemen." With that, the officers dispersed to quickly prepare the men and vessels. Gillette hesitated for a moment by Norrington's side as he gripped the hilt of his saber. "I shall need a moment with you once we are underway, Lievtenant," said Norrington quietly. Gillette looked up and nodded before saluting and heading off to see to his duties. Norrington, however, lingered a few moments. Captain Martin had not yet moved from the corner he had planted himself in, making it quite obvious he had no intention of cooperating to any useful degree. The Commodore quickly rolled up the maps and placed them neatly on the table before approaching Martin with great authority. "You have your orders, Captain. See them through," ordered Norrington as he looked down at the older officer. 

Martin scoffed as he stared up at the Commodore. He slowly raised his hand for a salute and quickly dismissed it as he brushed by Norrington and made way toward the _Hambleton_. James slowly shook his head. He did not want to bring Martin along with such an attitude, but he did not feel comfortable sailing out to meet two possible ships of unknown size and strength. He wanted all the firepower available, and the mid-sized _Hambleton_ was the best choice to accompany the _Dauntless_. 

Norrington quickly gathered the maps and made for the waiting rowboat to take him to his flagship. The day was excellent for sailing and he judged the ships would make good time. He surveyed the HMS _Dauntless_ as the small boat approached. She was a massive and commanding presence from sea level. Often referred to as a first rate ship-of-the-line or man-o-war, she measured 227 feet from prow to aft rail, and her masts stood a dizzying 220 feet about the waterline. Her three gun decks housed 100 guns, their sizes depending on the size of ball they fired, ranging from 12-pound, 24-pound, and 32-pounds.  Her lower gun deck housed the 32-pound guns for reasons of stability, the main gun deck contained the 24-pound guns, and the 12-pounders were located on the upper gun deck.  The 9-pound guns, known as the "long nines" for their extended range of fire, were mounted on her forecastle and quarterdecks.  The _Dauntless_ boasted a broadside weight of 1,104 pounds - meaning that amount of ordinance could be fired from either side of the ship during battle.  Despite her size, which sometimes made her difficult to handle, the _Dauntless_ remained a superior sailing vessel, though certainly not as fast as smaller, sleeker ones.  She was the power in the Caribbean waters – the deadly shark that all enemies of the Crown feared most. Her elegant carvings and aft woodwork made her as beautiful as she was dangerous. Her crew affectionately called her "The Big D." Norrington smirked slightly at the thought as he boarded the _Dauntless _and made way toward his cabin. He was certainly happiest and most at home while on board this ship. 

Within the next half hour, the topsails were hoisted and the anchor weighed. _Dauntless_ and _Hambleton_ made their way gracefully out of the harbor and began their southeast course toward their anticipated conflict. Hours later, Norrington stood on the quarterdeck and looked off to the starboard as he studied the _Hambleton_ from a distance. She was a newer frigate, known for her successful compromise of speed and strength. She carried 32 guns total; 26 12-pounders housed on her main gun deck, four 6-pounders mounted on her quarterdeck, and two more 6-pounders mounted on the forecastle. She was much faster than the _Dauntless_, and because of that Martin was forced to hoist only a main portion of the sails in order for the larger gun ship to keep up. As he looked out onto the frigate, Norrington quietly hoped that Martin had dropped the poor attitude and decided to throw in his best. _If he so much as hesitates this time out, I won't think twice about turning my guns and blowing his miserable self out of the water_, James thought. He had dealt with Martin's glares and snide comments for a week now, ever since his arrival in Port Royale. 

Gillette had been examining the compasses and surveying the maps on the weather deck when he noticed the Commodore up on the quarterdeck. He rolled up the maps and placed them back in the cabinet in front of the helm as he turned and ascended the stairs toward Norrington. Gillette, too, felt much more at ease shipboard. He approached Norrington casually as he always did, hoping to not give away the growing knot in his stomach. "You wished to have a word with me, Sir?" inquired Gillette as he looked over the Commodore's shoulder.

Norrington stood with his hands behind his back, as usual, as he turned back to Gillette. "Yes Gillette…I would like a moment with you in private." Gillette nodded and started back down the stairs toward the Commodore's cabin. Norrington followed and closed the door behind them as they entered the quiet and elegant space. Gillette made himself comfortable in one of the chairs facing the Commodore's fine desk. Norrington made his way to the desk as took off his hat and placed it on the carved wood. James sat down and leaned back into his chair. Obviously the atmosphere for this discussion was not about to include a great deal of military civility. Gillette prepared himself for a man-to-man discussion.

"This is probably not the best time to discuss this, Matthieu, but I feel there is no other choice," said James quietly has he absently brushed his fingers along the top of the desk. 

Matthieu glanced down and drew a breath. "I understand completely…James," he said as he looked up at Norrington and found him staring at his desk.

"We have served together for eight years, as you were kind enough to point out," James started. "And never once have I felt you would disappoint me, Matthieu. So it is with perfect truth I say that I was terribly disheartened when I saw that you went against your word."

Matthieu removed his hat and fingered it as he leaned forward in his chair. "We both know what you saw, so there is no point in me trying to deny it. It was a stupid and reckless slip on my part James; I regret what I have done." He paused to look over at James, who was now sitting back and looking squarely at him. Matthieu spread his hands in an attempt to express his loss for words. "I'll accept whatever punishment you decide, but be fair to Katherine. It was not her fault."

James sighed and looked away for a moment. "You know, she said the same thing, only for you. I'm beginning to wonder if it isn't _my_ fault. Perhaps it was Sergeant Wilkins' fault. Or everyone's fault. I'm simply not sure anymore, and quite honestly I no longer care," stated James matter of factly as he glanced back to Gillette. "The point of the discussion is not what you were doing or whose fault it was, Matthieu. We are about to do battle and I need to know if I can trust you to be on my side today."

Gillette nodded, as he looked James straight in the eye. "I have never given anything but my best in battle, James, and do not intend to do any less today. On my life, I stand beside you."

James nodded slowly. "I wish to discuss this further with both you and Katherine," he said with an emotionless tone. 

"Of course," said Gillette quietly as he glanced back down to the floor.

At that moment one of the midshipmen knocked on the cabin door. "Commodore, sir! Whites sails on the horizon, sir. Larboard quarter. Martin's off to the starboard fourth, sir." 

Norrington looked from the door back to Gillette and gathered his hat as he stood up. "Very well then, Mr. Emerson!" James walked past Gillette, paused, and turned back to him. A content little smile crossed his face. "We're going hunting, Gillette." With that, Norrington lifted his eyebrows in his quirky style and quickly walked out of the cabin. Gillette smiled to himself as he replaced his hat and followed his commander out on deck.


	13. Broadsides

Broadsides

"Sail ho!" a sailor cried from overhead. Norrington stepped outside his cabin with great purpose and looked to the left of the HMS _Dauntless_. A wry little smile crossed his lips as pulled the spyglass from his coat and peered at the distant vessel. Judging by her two masts, she looked to be a brig. She was therefore much smaller than either the _Dauntless_ or the _Hambleton_ and probably possessed much greater speed. Norrington began to see the feasibility in a ship of such agility attacking two merchant vessels so swiftly and far way. Perhaps he had overestimated the situation after all. He lowered the spyglass and gazed out onto the ocean at the ship as Gillette approached. The Lievtenant stood at the Commodore's side as he took in the situation.

"She appears to be turning tail and running…What are your orders, sir? Shall we run out the nines?" inquired Gillette as he gripped the hilt of his sword and looked up at his commander.

"No, I want confirmation on this threat before we go blasting them out of the water," said Norrington as he stared at the offending ship. "Perhaps it is time that Captain Martin demonstrates his purpose here with us. Signal for him to give chase, Gillette."

Gillette smiled and shook his head slightly. He, too, had experienced more than his fair share of Martin's poor demeanor. "You honestly think he's going to cooperate, sir?"

Norrington broke his stare and glanced back toward the _Hambleton_ before turning to Gillette. "Well that would be why Pearce is on the _Hambleton_ at this very moment. If Martin drags his feet, I'm confident the Lievtenant will give him a right good push."

Gillette looked out at the British frigate as he shook his head once more. "If you say so, sir," he sighed. Gillette quickly stepped off toward the quarterdeck to signal the orders to Martin. Norrington nodded and began to start back toward his cabin when another cry came from aloft. 

"Commodore! She's coming 'round sir, I believe she is making a run at us! Larboard quarter, sir!" 

Norrington swung back around and took three quick steps forward. His eyes narrowed as he peered out onto the ocean. The brig had indeed swung round to larboard and now made way toward the _Dauntless_ at a frightening speed. Lievtenant Gillette had also heard the warning and now made haste down the stairs as he stopped at the Commodore's side. A flag was hoisted on the brig, but neither of the two officers could make it out.

Norrington quickly looked up to the fighting top. "What colors are those?" he yelled to the sailors.

"Skull and dagger, sir!"

"Hunter…" Norrington said through gritted teeth. He quickly compressed the spyglass and put it back in his pocket. Gillette turned to him and paused. Captain Marius Hunter, the dastardly villain himself. Norrington had spent the better part of two months trying to locate Hunter and destroy him, but the pirate possessed more than one ship, which made him difficult to track. The actual number was uncertain, but the idea that Hunter would run only one ship – a brig at that – troubled Norrington. The Commodore wasted no time in springing to action. "Beat to quarters!" he ordered as he turned and ascended the stairs to the quarterdeck for a better vantage point. Nearly instantly sailors and Marines emerged from below and manned their stations.  Gun crews assembled and readied their weapons as the Marines climbed aloft into the fighting tops to act as sharpshooters.  Gillette dually followed Norrington as he repeated the command for all to hear. The two stared out at the approaching vessel. Something was not right.

"What is the best way for a small vessel to inflict the most amount of damage upon a much larger, sluggish one?" Norrington asked absently as he leaned forward on the rail and studied the pirate brig. She was now approaching the _Dauntless's_ larboard quarter at approximately a 60-degree angle. 

Gillette paused. "You think he means to ram us?"

Norrington pushed himself off the rail as concentration invaded his expression. "She won't present herself as a target until it's too late to maneuver out of it," he noted calmly. "Thirty degrees to starboard, Mr. Gillette.  I want chain and bar shot to bring down their rigging. We'll have to stop them dead in their tracks. Where in the _hell _is Martin…" spat Norrington as he turned around to look behind him. There sat the _Hambleton_ off to the starboard of the _Dauntless_, apparently oblivious to the threat on the other side of the massive gun ship. "Unbelievable," Norrington muttered to himself as he glared out at the frigate.

"Thirty-degrees to the starboard, Quartermaster!" ordered Gillette. He and Norrington quickly descended the stairs once more as the bow of the _Dauntless_ began to swing to the right as she squared up with the oncoming brig. The guns were rolled out and manned, awaiting the order.

Norrington surveyed the situation. "Bring round the chain and bars…we're aiming to disable them before they have the chance to reach us." At the Commodore's request, the marines distributed the bar and chain shot – two small cannon balls attached by either chains or steel bars that were incredibly effective at bringing down sails and rigging on enemy vessels. If this pirate was going to attempt to ram the _Dauntless_, Norrington would have to stop them using whatever means necessary. 

Commodore Norrington stood fast on deck as Gillette joined him. His cool demeanor never wavered as he gave his deadly order. "Open fire!" Almost immediately the long-range guns on the _Dauntless_ opened up, releasing a barrage of heavy fire on the small brig. The bar and chain shot seemed to be taking effect rather quickly as sails were pierced and rigging severed. The brig began to slow some, but remained on her collision course with the _Dauntless_.

"One thousand yards and closing, sir!" yelled one of the sailors aloft in the fighting top. Norrington glanced up briefly before resting his stare back on Hunter's vessel. 

"Come round to larboard, Quartermaster. Bring her around for a broadside," ordered the Commodore. "We'll finish them off quickly without Martin even noticing." He glanced out to the starboard to the _Hambleton_ and shook his head. Suddenly another cry came from aloft. 

"Sail, ho! Another ship, sir! Larboard fourth quarter and gaining fast!" Norrington swung around to look at the oncoming threat. There was a large frigate, approximately the size of the _Hambleton_, rapidly approaching the _Dauntless_ from behind where the great ship was relatively unprotected.

"Hunter, you bastard!" growled Norrington as Gillette ran up to his side. "Prepare the aft cannons and alert Martin, Gillette…we're about to be taken from behind." Gillette nodded and made haste. 

"Continue to come round to larboard, Quartermaster, we'll put the brig between us and the frigate," ordered Norrington as he climbed the stairs and monitored the situation from the quarterdeck. They were now coming up alongside the disabled brig and in prime range for a broadside assault.

"Sir! What are your orders?" yelled Gillette from the deck.

"Release the hounds, Mr. Gillette!" ordered Norrington as a confident little grin spread across his face. Referring to sea battles as foxhunting was one of his little quirks.

Gillette turned back to the gunners and drew his sword. "Pour it into 'em lads!" Instantly all 50 guns on the larboard side of the _Dauntless_ fired, sending a wall of deadly iron crashing on to the small ship. The brig fired back, but she was horribly out gunned and soon found herself overwhelmed by the firepower aboard the _Dauntless_ as she poured on the broadsides.

"Sir, the other frigate is coming round aft!" 

Norrington quickly turned around to the starboard, to see the _Hambleton_ slowly turning to address the new threat. "Martin, I'll have your damned head for this," he snarled under his breath. Martin's lack of enthusiasm would get both Navy ships into a great deal of trouble if he did not take faster action. 

"Shall we prepare to board, sir?" inquired Gillette from next to one of the deck guns. The brig was well beaten and listing hopelessly to the larboard.

"No, Lievtenant, she's out of this fight," he stated as he turned back to see the enemy frigate approaching the stern. "Hard to starboard! Let's square up to this bastard and send him the official Royal Navy greeting!"

"Aye sir!" Gillette quickly repeated the orders to the quartermaster as the _Dauntless_ swung round to the starboard and rounded on the enemy. Martin had finally trimmed his sails and was rapidly approaching the rogue vessel as well as they sandwiched her between the two Navy ships. Within moments, Hunter's frigate found herself between the 32 guns of the _Hambleton_ and the 100 of the _Dauntless. _

"Fire on the starboard guns if you please, Mr. Gillette," ordered Norrington from atop the quarterdeck. "Open fire!" With that, the starboard guns on the _Dauntless_ opened up on Hunter as a volley of devastating blows descended upon the frigate. Pirates quickly scattered about the deck in an attempt to avoid the barrage. The massive 32-pound cannon on the lower gun deck of the _Dauntless_ fired simultaneously at the waterline of Hunter's vessel and water sprayed at each collision as the hull was punctured and the ocean came flowing in. Martin had also given the order to fire, and now was pounding the vessel from the opposite side. Despite the surprise, the Navy ships were in perfect control of the situation. 

"Fire another round and prepare to board!" commanded Norrington. A small, but triumphant grin, had invaded his emotionless expression. As he turned to descend the stairs, a marksman aboard Hunter's frigate took aim. He fired.

Commodore Norrington came crashing down the stairs as the bullet grazed his scalp. He rolled onto his back as he tried to catch his lost breath. Gillette saw the shot and quickly ran to the fallen Norrington as he ordered a squad of Marines to fire upon the shooter. 

"Commodore! Are you hit?" ask Gillette hastily. His question was answered, however, when Norrington rolled on his back. The bullet had sliced right by his temple a good four inches or so, and the Commodore was now bleeding quite heavily from the wound. Norrington reached up with his left hand and touched it. The gash itself was not life threatening, so he gathered his hat and went to stand up. It was at that moment that another shot found its mark as Gillette fell to the deck. 

"Gillette!" cried Norrington as he knelt down beside his fallen Lievtenant. He quickly looked back up at the Marines. "Get that bloody sharpshooter!" Volley upon volley of fire was sent across to the frigate as finally the marksman was shot down from his deadly post. Norrington looked down at Gillette and quickly examined him. The bullet had lodged itself in the young man's left shoulder and the wound had begun to bleed quite freely. James wiped his own blood away from his eyes as he applied pressure to Gillette's shoulder. "Hang on, Matthieu," he said as Gillette's eyes began to close. "Medic now!" he ordered. Within moments soldiers came with some supplies. "Take him to my cabin and get the surgeon immediately," said Norrington as he replaced his hat and stood up. He would finish off Hunter right then and there. The Commodore stood fast and steady as he watched the deadly effect of the _Dauntless's_ and _Hambleton's_ guns, the blood slowly soaking his brilliant uniform.

Minutes later what was left of both ships' crews surrendered. The damage inflicted upon both pirate vessels was devastating in the least. Prisoners were hastily thrown in the brig and the flaming hulks of Hunter's ships finally blown up as the _Dauntless_ and _Hambleton _hoisted sail and made way back to Port Royale. Norrington slowly turned back toward his cabin. The blood loss was finally making him feel somewhat weak, but he was much more worried about Gillette's condition. Despite the awkward encounter earlier that day, Norrington could not stand to lose his trusted officer and friend.


	14. A Spot Of Blood

A Spot of Blood 

Norrington slowly turned the knob and entered the cabin where the surgeon and several of the ship's medics were hovering over Lievtenant Gillette, who lay quite still on the floor.  James paused as after he closed the door as he watched them work for a few moments.  As he leaned back on a table and hung his head in exhaustion, he noticed several spots of blood on the floor where he stood.  It was then he remembered that he, too, had been wounded.  The blood from the gash on the left side of his scalp slowly began to trickle in to his eye and he absently lifted his arm to wipe it away, removing his hat and wig in the same motion and letting them fall to the floor.  His thinking became somewhat cloudy and he felt dreadfully lightheaded, but Norrington would never dream of interrupting the surgeon's work on a more critical case, especially if it was his first officer.  As he looked on, James began to think more and more about the incident.  He tried to find blame in someone, something…but he soon found that there was no blame to be had.  There was nothing he or Gillette could have done to see the shots coming.  With any luck on the marksman's side, both Norrington and Gillette would have been dead long before now.  The Commodore could not take comfort in the fact that they had escaped certain disaster by a mere stroke of luck.  

As Norrington was drifting deeper and deeper into thought, the surgeon rose and turned toward him.  "Commodore, darlin'," he started.  "Ye don't look to be fine shape ye'self…"  The stout Irishman stopped just in front of Norrington and flashed one of his good-humored smiles.  "We're about to take the Lievtenant down to the hospital to work on 'im a bit, so I strongly suggest ye join us sir."

Norrington narrowed his eyes and blinked as he willed away the cobwebs in his mind.  "How is he?" he inquired with concern and mounting confusion.

"Oh him…" said the surgeon as he turned back to his assistants and Gillette and smiled.  "He's going to be quite all right, if ye don't mind me sayin' so.  The ball passed straight through.  He'll be needin' some clean up and a great deal of rest, though.  As will you, sir.  We're off, lads."  The surgeon made way to the door with the assistants following him as they carried Gillette down toward the hospital.  Norrington leaned back further on the table and looked up at the ceiling.  He closed his eyes and sighed before gathering himself up to follow the parade, leaving a trail of blood behind him.  

Norrington exited the cabin and slowly made his way down the deck toward the stairs.  What he heard next made his blood boil.  

"You make a fine target for the sharpshooters, _Commodore_!"  

Norrington swung around to his left and placed a hand on the bulkhead for support as he scanned for the offending tongue.  There on the _Hambleton_, which was sailing perhaps 50 yards from the _Dauntless_, stood Captain Martin.  The man had a sickening grin on his face and Norrington felt a sudden need to pull out his pistol.  _I'll show you sharp shooting, you bastard_, thought Norrington as he gritted his teeth.  _You should be very grateful for the water that separates us now!_  

Martin stood smiling on the deck of the _Hambleton_ as he gazed over to the Commodore.  He studied him for a moment from a distance as he noticed the blood streaming down the younger officers entire left side and soaking the bright uniform.  _Serves you right…That's what you get for running off to battle, you bloody twit._  

_Of course I make a fine target_, the Commodore thought.  _They only go for the important officers anyway…_How he had wanted to say that!  But he knew that was a horrible breech of protocol and would only fuel the fire between him and Martin.  Norrington shook it off as he continued down toward the hospital, surveying the damage on the way.  The _Dauntless_ herself had taken only minor hits, and only a handful of crewmen were wounded, and most of those were simply doubled over from exhaustion.  Norrington was pleased with their brilliant performance.  "Excellent show, gentlemen," he praised as he passed by.  He noticed that most of the sailors and Marines were staring at him – whether it was due to the praise or the growing crimson stain on his uniform, he could not be sure.

Norrington descended the final flight of stairs and found himself standing only feet from the table where Gillette was being treated.  He moved out of the corner and into the larger expanse of the room as he watched the surgeon finish his work.  Aiden Quinlan had been the surgeon aboard the _Dauntless_ for as long as Norrington could remember.  The kind, round, older Irishman from Belfast had acted as a mentor for Norrington when he first joined the crew as a young, naïve Midshipman.  Since then James had risen through the ranks, but never forgotten Quinlan's candor.  Indeed, the relationship between the two was professional, though Quinlan never hesitated to make Norrington chuckle or set him straight if need be.  The Commodore and the entire _Dauntless_ crew knew the surgeon's quirky personality and took it all in stride.  Quinlan finished up on the unconscious Gillette and wiped his hands as he turned around to where Norrington stood.

"I suggest ye find a seat and relax, Commodore.  Yer bleedin' profusely all over ye'self," stated Quinlan with a slight hint of teasing.

Norrington looked up at him slowly and waved his arm in dismissal.  "No, I'm quite all right…."

Quinlan pointed to a chair not to far away.  His tone had become much more stern.  "Chair.  Sit down, before ye fall down."

The Commodore looked up incredulously.  "Are you handling me, Mr. Quinlan?" he asked with his usual commanding tone.

"No sir," started the surgeon as a smile crossed his face.  "But I will if ye don't get yer head out of yer arse."  

Norrington looked at him and narrowed his eyes in confusion.  

"…Respectfully, sir," covered Quinlan as his smile grew.  He pointed to a chair as he walked over and took Norrington by the sleeve. "Chair.  Sit."  The surgeon grimaced as he looked over the Commodore's wound.  "Aye, that's a nasty gash ye got there, sir.  Four inches along yer scalp…I'd say ye be one damned lucky bastard."

"No need to use that type of language, Mr. Quinlan," said Norrington with a straight tone.  "How is the Lievtenant?"

"My apologies, sir.  Like I said before, the ball passed right on through.  He was in a great deal of pain and did pass out though.  We caught it though, cleaned him up nicely – he was in shock from the blood loss.  If ye don't mind me sayin,' yer headed the same way Commodore," asserted Quinlan as he began to clean the head wound.

"What are you insinuating?" asked Norrington as he turned toward his trusted surgeon.

"By the powers, ye _are_ getting cloudy, Commodore darlin'…" mocked Quinlan as he continued working.  "I'll make it plain for ye since yer not feelin' ye best.  Bad wound.  Lots of blood loss.  God knows ye should either be unconscious on the floor or dead on the deck with ye brains spillin' out.  But never mind that…I think ye lost enough to go into shock, sir, so I want to treat this aggressively."  Quinlan's crude demeanor was always laced with a smile and a harmless sarcasm.  He tilted Norrington's head slightly to the right to get a better look at the wound.

"I don't think this is necessary…I'll be heading back to the helm," started Norrington as he went to stand up.

"Yer not going anywhere, Commodore.  I don't tell ye how to run ye pretty ship, now do I?  So just sit and relax, I'll have ye patched up in no time."  Norrington sat back and took the surgeon's words as he had done for the last 10 years.  He became dimly aware of Quinlan motioning to one of the assistants, who promptly came and put a stern hand on his shoulder and another on his head.

"Quinlan…" warned Norrington.  

"Yer not about to like what I'm going to do to ye," stated Quinlan as he prepared salt to put on the wound.  Norrington sank into the chair, knowing full well what was about to happen.  Quinlan smiled.  "Best to be doing it before ye lose more blood and pass out, Commodore darlin'."  

The intense stinging and sheer pain was enough to blind a man, or so Norrington thought.  

"Don't grit ye teeth like that!  It'll hurt more," declared Quinlan with authority.  "I'll be stitchin' that as well, sir."

"Splendid…" Norrington rolled his eyes.  "So what of Gillette's condition?" he inquired as he raked his fingers through his hair.

"Blood loss is his greatest concern, but ye should know enough about that by now.  Feeling lightheaded are ye?" Quinlan asked with a smirk as he leaned down quickly to look the Commodore in the eye.

"Quite."

"As ye should.  Anyways, the Lievtenant's going to need about a month of rest I'd imagine.  Ball missed the artery and the bone – he's been very lucky.  But still, that shoulder will be quite the trouble for a while until it's strong again.  There," Quinlan paused as he finished the sutures.  "Good as new.  Albeit a little woozy.  Now I suggest that ye go and rest while we make way back to Port Royale.  I also suggest that ye don't fall down the stairs again, Commodore darlin…Right good way to earn the pleasure of my company for a longer period of time, and it is most ungraceful of ye," Quinlan chuckled has he patted Norrington once on the shoulder and tended to another sailor.  

Norrington merely shook his head and stood up slowly to check on Gillette.  His head was spinning, but it no longer mattered.  The Lievtenant stirred some before opening his eyes and gazing up to the Commodore.  "Sir?" he said slowly, with great confusion.

"Quiet Matthieu, you had better rest," said Norrington softly as he leaned on the table.  "Your wound is not life threatening, thank God.  They're about to take you up to sickbay.  We should be back in Port Royale by nightfall."

Gillette turned his head and narrowed his eyes as he looked Norrington over and noticed the blood on the uniform.  "You look like hell…"

Norrington smirked before pointing at Gillette's shoulder.  "Yes, well, you're not looking ship shape either, Lievtenant."  James smiled as he looked down.  "Katherine is going to flog us for coming back like this," he said with a chuckle.  Gillette paused as he noticed something.  Norrington turned back to him in quiet alarm.  "Is something wrong?"

Gillette rested his head back down, but continued to smile.  "You're laughing."

Norrington narrowed eyes in sarcastic displeasure.  "You're delirious and imagining things.  That, or I'm delirious and imagining things…" His words trailed off as he looked away.  He turned back to Gillette.  "Rest now, Matthieu.  I'll see you back in port."  With that, Norrington turned and made his way unsteadily to the stairs to return to his cabin, where he fully intended on collapsing and sleeping the rest of the voyage.  

Gillette glanced over at him once more and chuckled.  "Don't fall down the stairs, sir!"

"I'm _not_ going to fall down the bloody stairs!" 


	15. The Hell You Are

The Hell You Are 

The _Dauntless_ and _Hambleton_ returned to Port Royale under the cover of darkness.  The prisoners were unloaded quickly under heavy guard as more personnel came to relieve those disembarking.  The replacement was smooth and orderly as always.  Once the prisoners were secured, the wounded were carefully brought ashore.  Lievtenant Gillette was taken immediately to the medical ward at Fort Charles for further treatment and monitoring.  He was now in a great deal of pain and frequently drifted in and out of consciousness, and the biggest concern for him now as staving off infection and recuperating from the blood loss.  The ball had smashed through the upper left portion of his chest, just below his shoulder, devastating the muscle and tissue.  Luckily, it had not struck bone or any blood vessels on its destructive path.  He would live to fight another day.

Norrington watched from the deck as others disembarked.  As usual, he desired to be the last to leave the ship, despite his condition.  His wound was substantially less serious than Gillette's, though he had certainly lost a great deal of blood from the head wound and was nearing the verge of collapse himself.  However, he would be stubborn and stand fast until the crew was relieved and it was his turn.  James closed his eyes as he leaned against the starboard bulkhead for a moment, as the deck grew increasingly quiet around him.  

"Ye look like yer about to fall down again, Commodore darlin'," asserted Quinlan quite loudly from behind.  Norrington jumped slightly and gripped the edge of the bulkhead to assure that did not lose his balance.  He slowly turned his head around and glanced down at the surgeon before looking back out into the bay.  "Ye didn't lie down and rest like I said now, did ye?" inquired Quinlan with an exasperated tone.  The stout little Irishman stared up at the Commodore with great displeasure and shook his head.  "Ye got awfully lucky out there today, James.  Don't go finishing the marksman's work on ye'self."

Norrington glanced back to Quinlan.  "Would you please not call me by my name while we're shipboard?" he sighed as he rubbed his forehead.  

Quinlan glanced up at the Commodore and smiled.  "I've been callin' ye James for 10 years now and ye ne'er seemed to mind!" the older surgeon teased as he playfully cuffed Norrington on the arm.  "Come to think of it ye seem to like my callin' ye 'Commodore darlin',' and – "

"Humor me Quinlan…I'm concussed," interrupted Norrington as he merely shook his head once more and lifted his left arm as he attempted to deal with Quinlan's usual blunt ways.

"Aye, Commodore," started Quinlan sarcastically.  "Ye need to go home and rest.  That, a'course, means actually lying down and not doing work, sir.  Ye be no good to us unconscious or dead, so don't go pushin' yer luck," established the surgeon with an official, unwavering tone.  He knew perfectly well that Norrington had little intention of taking it easy.  He had never done so before, why do so now?  "And don't be makin' me come to yer house and order ye around there, either, Commodore darlin'…'cause ye know I will."  Quinlan flashed a smile before excusing himself, leaving Norrington to disembark with the final boat leaving the _Dauntless_.  

James had not taken more than 20 paces on shore when he heard the familiar, infuriating tone of Captain Martin's voice.  "My, what a mess you are," observed Martin as he approached Norrington.  He looked the Commodore up and down as he studied his bloodstained uniform.  "It appears as if you lost your cover as well," Martin noted as he pointed at Norrington's lack of wig and hat.  "Hmm.  Must have blown off in your haste to catch pirates…" Martin's tone reeked of sarcasm and disdain as he crossed his arms and stood fast.

The adrenaline had begun to flow quite freely as Norrington stepped toward Marin and looked down on him with pulsing authority.  "You would do well to hold your tongue, Captain, or you shall soon find yourself in the very same brig as the villainous creatures we so hastily captured this afternoon," established Norrington, his tone steady and commanding despite his growing lightheadedness.  "I should very well have your bloody commission for your gross conduct under my command and blatant disregard for orders.  Take your leave, sir, but expect to be hearing from me shortly to discuss your future here with the Royal Navy."  With that the Commodore turned toward the waiting carriage.  There were so many things he had wanted to spit in Martin's face, but none were appropriate, and Norrington would not allow himself to sink to the same level as that rotten man.  

Minutes later the carriage pulled up Norrington's drive and stopped.  James started to feel much weaker as he slowly climbed out and made his way unsteadily to the front steps.   Katherine opened the door as a smile crossed her face to see him returned so quickly, though it quickly vanished as she noticed his exhausted stance and bloodied clothing.  She flew down the steps to meet him.  "James!  Good God, what happened to you?" she asked hastily.  Though she tried, Katherine could not find words capable of expressing her shock and concern.  She quickly put her left arm about his waist and flung his right arm over her shoulder before the carriage footman even had the chance to offer his assistance.  

"I'm perfectly fine, I just need to lie down for a moment," James muttered as Katherine led him inside and up the stairs.

"The hell you are, James Norrington," scolded Katherine.  They finally reached his room and James collapsed on the bed as Katherine got a better look at him.  His wound, though sutured, had begun to bleed again and was now streaming down the left side of his face once more.  The left side of his cravat and waistcoat were soaked straight through with blood.  The brilliant white lapels of his uniform coat were now an ominous shade of red.  His breeches were also spattered with crimson stains.  He was an utter mess.  "Margaret!  Come quickly!" cried Katherine from James's side.  Within moments Katherine's maid came running into the room and gasped at the sight of the Commodore.  

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph," whispered the shocked servant.  "What happened Miss?"

"I don't know, Margaret," began Katherine as she shook her head in disbelief.  "Gather some cloths and bring some water please.  Make haste!"  Margaret turned and fled down the stairs to gather the necessary things.  Meanwhile, James lay still on the bed and let out an exhausted sigh.  Katherine quickly began undoing his cravat and examined his wound.  "James…what happened?" she asked, the confusion and concern mounting in her voice.

James turned his head slightly to address her and spoke quietly.  "There was a battle…two pirate vessels rather than one.  We had it under control until that damned Martin hesitated.  We disabled one and took on the larger frigate with the _Hambleton_, but the bastards had a sharpshooter on board and bloody used him…" Norrington's words trailed off as he blinked to keep the room from spinning around him.  

Katherine's expression went from concern to sheer terror.  "You were shot?" she whispered slowly as the maid reappeared in the doorway with water and cloths.  Katherine took no notice of her as her gaze was fixed on James's face.  

"One moment I'm on the quarterdeck shouting out orders, and the next I'm at the bottom of the stairs and bleeding all over myself," continued James.  He paused and chuckled sarcastically at his situation, but the smile soon faded from his face.  "Neither of us saw it coming, though perhaps we should have," he said quietly.

"We?" 

"Gillette was hit as well, in the left shoulder.  Bastards were starting at the top and working their way down…Good strategy I suppose, unless of course, you are the one being shot at," growled Norrington.

"Oh my God…Is Matthieu all right?"  Katherine was now teetering on the verge of panic.  It was an emotion she rarely ever let herself advance to, and she was not comfortable with it.  Her concern grew even more so with the news of Gillette's injury.  After removing James's cravat, she sat up and spread her arms in an expression of confusion and fear.  "I….I'm calling for the doctor immediately," she stammered as she turned and plunged her shaking hands into the water and soaked one of the cloths.

"That won't be necessary Katherine," started James calmly.  "I've already seen a surgeon and I simply need to rest for a time, that is all."

Katherine shook her head as she turned back to her brother.  "No…no.  I don't know what else to do, just…_Look at you!_" she cried as she pointed to his bloodied uniform.  James looked down, but either due to his debilitated state or the fact that he had been looking at the blood for the past few hours, it was of no great concern to him.  He absently waved an arm as he slowly sat up on the bed.  

"Margaret, if you will excuse us please," he said politely.  The maid nodded and scurried out the door as James turned to Katherine and slowly rose.  "There is nothing wrong with me, Katherine.  It's simply a gash that has bled profusely.  I am not shot or injured anywhere else so I think we should both be grateful…"

"That you're not dead?" Katherine asked heatedly as she stood there staring up at him.  She was having a very difficult time suppressing her emotions, and it was becoming quite clear to James that she was scared.  Ever since he had joined the Navy, and especially since earning the more prestigious ranks, Katherine had regarded him as privileged and removed from such threats.  Bullets did not seem to have a place in naval battles, or so she believed, and the idea that her brother would be recognized and targeted simply because of his rank troubled her deeply.  "You could have died, James," she whispered.

"It is the nature of the duty," James explained as he glanced down at the floor.

"And that does not bother you?" asked Katherine with a lack of understanding.  "Does it not occur to you that you may walk out that door tomorrow and not come back?"

"Well, according to the ship's doctor, I will not be walking anywhere tomorrow," James said as he tried to make light of the situation.

"Stop it, James," Katherine demanded with tears in her eyes.  She finally succumbed to her emotions as the tears began streaming down her face.  James gently took hold of Katherine's arm and sat her down on the bed next to him as he embraced her.  "I'm frightened for you," Katherine mustered between sobs.  "For you, for Matthieu, for all your men…I do not understand how you can sit there and show no fear."

James paused and closed his eyes for a moment before he continued.  "You're mistaken if believe I am fearless, Katherine," he began softly.  "Because 'fearless' does not exist.  I am confident and successful at best, because I have great faith in the men next to me.  Courage is knowing fear and still seeing to your duty."  

Katherine drew a few hesitant breaths before glancing up at her brother.  She flashed a small smile.  "You'll have to get cleaned up then," she said quietly as she handed him the damp cloth and sat up.  Norrington smiled and rose to his feet.  After changing into some fresh clothes, Katherine help him clean up a bit and then observed as he quickly passed out on the bed.  She watched him quietly for a moment before returning to her own room for the night, somewhat comforted by his words.


	16. Rest And Recovery

Rest and Recovery 

Katherine woke early the next morning to the sun breaking through her window.  The warm light on her face slowly coaxed her out of the sleep that came so slowly just hours before.  The events of the previous evening kept her up for sometime and deeply troubled her to say the least.  Not only was James injured, but Gillette was as well, and much more seriously.  She had sat up in bed, worrying, for what seemed like an eternity until she finally gave in and got a few hours rest.   Katherine rolled over onto her back as she remembered what had happened, and then sprung out of bed and stuck her head out in the hall, looking for Margaret.  The maid happened to be walking by and saw Katherine's silent request.

"Would you like help getting dressed, miss?" Margaret asked politely.  

"If you would be so kind, Margaret, yes I would," said Katherine with a small smile.  Moments later, she was dressed and headed down the hall toward her brother's room.

"Breakfast will be ready soon, Miss Katherine," called the butler, Mr. Decker, from the bottom of the stairs.  Katherine quickly nodded and kept moving down the hall.  She knocked softly on James's door before easing it open.  She peered in, not knowing if he was decent or not.

"James," Katherine said quietly.  She found James sprawled out on the bed, still in the fresh uniform he had changed into the night before.  She frowned slightly at the thought, but quickly dismissed it, as she knew how he was probably feeling.  Katherine walked softly to the bed and sat down beside James as she studied him.  His breaths seemed normal and some color had returned to his face, though he was still quite pale.  She deftly brushed aside the hair from his face and looked at the bullet wound on the left side of his head.  It was interesting how a wound of that size could bleed so heavily.  Katherine shook her head slowly as she thought through the situation.  _If that sharpshooter had only aimed an inch to the right…_she thought.  Katherine shut her eyes before she finished the idea.  As strong as she had made herself over the years, she could not stand to even think of losing her dear brother.

Katherine rose slowly and left the room without disturbing James.  She took breakfast by herself before finding Mr. Decker.  "I am off to the Fort to visit someone.  Now, you make sure the Commodore has something to eat as soon has he wakes," established Katherine.  "I don't care if you have to force it down his throat, either, Mr. Decker.  I think he may deserve it after the frightful scare he gave us all last night," she continued with a wry little smile crossing her lips. 

Mr. Decker chuckled softly.  Having Katherine in the house certainly made his life less dull.  "I'll be sure to see to it, Miss Katherine."

The carriage ride to the fort was delightful.  It was another glorious day, with the sun hanging neatly in the clear blue sky.  The soft breeze caught a bit of Katherine's hair as she looked out the window.  Moments later the horses came to a halt and Katherine made her way to the Fort Charles hospital to visit Lievtenant Gillette.  She was eventually directed into a quiet room overlooking the bay, where she found Matthieu sleeping peacefully.  She desperately wanted to talk to him, but kept quiet as she figured he needed his rest.  Katherine sat in the wooden chair to Matthieu's left and simply watched him.  He, too, looked awfully pale as she studied his face.  Her gaze wandered up to his short, reddish hair.  Katherine smiled to herself.  

"Ye don't look like a soldier, that is for certain."  Katherine narrowed her eyes in confusion before turning to look behind her.  There stood Aiden Quinlan, the surgeon.  She smiled and stood up to greet the Irishman.

"No, I am certainly no soldier," she said quietly.

"Oh, I don't know about that, lassie," stared Quinlan as he took a step toward her.  His kind, weathered face returned Katherine's smile.  "From what I hear, yer quite the spirit.  Katherine Norrington, is it not?" he inquired as he took her hand and kissed it.

Katherine looked at him in quiet amazement.  "How did you know my name?"

"Oh, I know lots a things, Miss Katherine.  Mostly because yer brother could not keep quiet about ye.  My name is Aiden Quinlan, and I'm the surgeon aboard the HMS _Dauntless_, and have been working with the Commodore for about 10 years, now.  Fine lad, he is," stated Quinlan as he put his hands behind his back.  Katherine smiled.  She studied his stout features.  His graying hair shone like silver against his tan face.  His uniform was tidy, but by no means brilliant as the Commodore's always seemed to be.  His kind expression did not seem to hide anything.  Katherine paused before glancing back at Gillette.

"He'll be up and about in no time, Miss," started Quinlan.  "Don't let his quiet demeanor fool ye, either.  He's quite the lively character on ship, ye know.  His red hair really does suit 'em, too.  Wears everything on his sleeve, that one does."

Katherine smirked at the thought.  "You would never know with all the stammering he does around me," she teased without taking her eyes off Matthieu.

Quinlan laughed.  "Aye, our dear Lievtenant isn't usually one with the ladies!  But ye must not have gotten him riled up then, either.  He can be quite quick with his tongue when he wants to.  That wonderful blend of Irish and French blood does his vocabulary a lot of good," the surgeon chuckled.

Katherine glanced back at Quinlan and smiled.  "I did not know he was Irish as well."

"Aye!  His mother is a fine Irish lady from outside of Londonderry.  That be where he gets the red hair from.  I had red hair once, too.  A lot of good it's done me.  It comes with a sharp tongue and quick wit, ye know.  Got me into a great deal of trouble.  Still does," noted Quinlan.

Katherine chuckled as he turned back to look at the surgeon.  "You must know Matthieu and my brother quite well," she said.

Quinlan nodded.  "Aye, I do.  Fine gentlemen, the both of 'em.  I was just headed off to check up on young James before I spotted ye here.  I suspect dear Matthieu will be more likely to talk tomorrow, so yer more than welcome to come then and see him."

"Perhaps you would like to come with me back to our house?  I have a carriage waiting outside," said Katherine as she stole one more glance at the sleeping Gillette.  

"It would be my pleasure, Miss Katherine," said Quinlan with his usual charm as he offered his left arm.  Together they exited the Fort and began the short ride to Norrington's manor.

James had woken shortly after Katherine had departed.  He lay in bed for a time as he studied the ceiling.  Moving was slow and painful, partly due to his blood loss and partly due to the fact that he _had_ fallen down a flight of stairs, whether he remembered it or not.  He quickly and clumsily tied his cravat and tucked it into his waistcoat before heading unhurriedly down the stairs.  As promised, food was force upon him at the request of Mr. Decker.  James shook his throbbing head after he had finished.  He got up and strolled out into the garden on his way to the stables.  Darby greeted him with the usual nicker and demand for food.  James took out a piece of bread that was so eloquently forced upon him in the kitchen and offered it to the big, grey horse.  He smiled as Darby tasted it and proceeded to search his pockets for more.  

"Perhaps if I knock you silly, the servants shall offer more to you as well," James said sarcastically.  He reached up and stroked the horse's beautiful face before the silence was broken.

"Ye know, for a Commodore, ye don't follow orders too well," said the all too familiar voice of Surgeon Quinlan.  

James sighed as he turned around and leaned on the stall door.  Quinlan stood there with his arms crossed and looking quite stern with Katherine imitating his mood.  "I'm in trouble, aren't I?" asked James as he narrowed eyes and looked at them from across the aisle.

"This would be where I order ye men to tie ye down to a bed and gag ye to keep ye quiet," jested Quinlan.  "So, would ye mind explainin' to me, James me lad, how 'Two days rest in bed' implies that ye can go out and frolic about with the horses?"  The surgeon's tone was sarcastic as always, but now undeniably firm.  Katherine glanced down at the Irishman.  Never before had she heard anyone under her brother take that kind of tone with him.  She found it amusing that this grizzled little man could get away with ordering the Commodore around.  She smiled and tried to contain her laughter.

"Quinlan, you have an annoying little habit if making my life miserable," sighed James as he tilted his head back and closed his eyes.  

"Aye!  Only 'cause I know ye like it so," teased the surgeon as a bright grin crossed his face.  James merely shook his head as he looked down to the floor.  Darby joined in the festivities by sniffing James's hair and playfully taking it in his soft, grey lips.  "Now if ye don't mind, Commodore darlin'," started Quinlan.  "I suggest we go inside and I'll have a look at ye head."  Katherine stepped forward and took James by the arm to lead him inside.  The three made themselves comfortable in the sitting room.  Katherine pushed James down on the couch and sat next to him, as if to make sure he did not go anywhere.

"I suppose you've already met him, then," inquired James with a hint of sarcasm and impatience. 

Katherine smiled widely.  "Why yes I have.  I find the good doctor to be quite delightful," she said as she glanced over to Quinlan.

"Delightful…" mocked Norrington as he rolled his eyes.  Quinlan chuckled.

"So how long have you known each other then?" inquired Katherine curiously.  James paused in thought as Quinlan approached with a bowl of water and cloths.  

"It be, what?  Ten years now, I'd say," started Quinlan as he placed a hand on James's head and looked at the gash.  "I remember when James here first came on board the _Dauntless_ as a midshipman.  What a naïve young lad ye were!  Running about like a chicken with yer head cut off," taunted Quinlan.

"Unbelievable…" muttered Norrington under his breath as he shook his head.

"Ah, well, ye turned out well enough under my tutelage, of course," stated Quinlan with pride.

"I like to think I have _some_ talent for my occupation, thank you Quinlan," established James as he nodded quickly.

"That too.  But it'd be my guidance that keeps yer head our of yer arse," Quinlan said with a smile as Katherine burst out laughing.

James glanced over to his right and shook his head at Katherine before doing the same to Quinlan.  "You're incorrigible," he muttered as he rolled his eyes at the surgeon.

Katherine turned to the two characters.  "James, I cannot believe you allow that kind of talk, true though it must be," she said through her smile.

James glared at her.  "I don't have a choice," he said, the sarcasm never having left his tone.

"Aye!" agreed Quinlan.  "He and all the other sailors on this silly little island know this is how I am, so it be best to simply accept it.  James here knows to listen to me, though, he's a smart lad.  So I suspect the reason why ye ignored me the past few times about resting is because ye be knocked silly, 'tis all."

James narrowed his eyes and turned to look up at Quinlan.  "I am perfectly capable of thinking, thank you."

Quinlan simply looked at him and chuckled.  "Ye fell down yer bloody stairs, Commodore darlin'!  Blood loss only accounts for part of yer cloudiness, I think a right good blow to the head is the other part."

James merely gritted his teeth and sighed.  Katherine glanced up to Quinlan, smiling, with a questioning look.

"Don't you worry, Miss Katherine, I don't normally handle him like this on ship.  I'm the good subordinate in front of the others.  Unless, of course, he needs to be set straight.  But I do enjoy giving him a bit of grief from time," stated Quinlan with a growing smile.  "Now, I expect you'll actually stay in bed now, rather than go gallivanting about with ponies.  Yer not well, James.  I'd beat it into yer head, but I don't think yer skull can take another blow."

"Thank you Quinlan," James said looking up.  The surgeon gathered his things and Katherine saw him to the door.  His presence certainly made her feel more at ease about the situation.  She smiled as she watched him depart, and turned back toward the sitting room.


	17. Making The Rounds

Making the Rounds 

It had been nearly a week since the pirate hunt and the injuries to Norrington and Gillette.  James had spent a good two days resting, thanks to Katherine's incessant monitoring and unwavering attitude.  She had visited Matthieu nearly everyday, being sure to put on one of her brightest smiles to cheer him up.  The young Lievtenant was feeling rather weak and somewhat depressed of his condition and inability to take part in his duties, but he certainly felt much more relieved when Katherine stopped by to keep him company for a bit.  

One morning after Katherine had returned from the Fort, she and James were taking tea in their sitting room.  "How is Matthieu doing, then?" inquired James eagerly.

"Oh, so it is '_Matthieu'_ now, is it?" teased Katherine as she gave her brother a sarcastic smile.  

James simply leaned back in the chair and returned the smile.  "It has always been 'Matthieu' to me, Katherine, but not for you," he retorted.  James looked down as he sipped some tea.  "Besides, you have been kind enough to help him for the past few days, I see no harm in you calling him by his given name now."

"So you do approve of him calling on me," said Katherine quietly.  

Norrington looked straight back up.  "I said you may call him 'Matthieu,' not marry him," he stressed as he looked back to his tea.

Katherine simply smiled at her brother as she pondered what to say.  "He's doing quite well, or so says Quinlan," she started.  "He seems to be getting much stronger, though his shoulder does hurt him quite a lot.  It's hard to say, James…he seems to not be happy with his recovery.  He simply does not want to accept being bedridden.  Much like you, I'm afraid."

"I daresay we get that trait from the overbearing desire to be successful," James said.  "Matthieu is a fine officer, and one aspect of being a fine officer is not looking vulnerable to the men.  Gives them confidence, you see.  So naturally, being an invalid does not come easily to either of us."

"I gathered that," said Katherine as she gazed over at James.  She paused a moment before changing the subject.  "I suspect that Miss Reynolds will be arriving shortly.  Is there any word of Mr. Meyerson or the _Cavalier_?"

"I rarely receive word of merchant vessels since they are not in my charge.  Ships in general are difficult to track once at sea anyway," started James.  "Though if I am correct, the _Cavalier_ is due to arrive within the week."

Katherine leaned back on the couch and smiled to herself as she gazed out the window.  "I shall be most delighted to see Miss Reynolds when she arrives.  It's been so long…"

Norrington looked over to his sister and followed her gaze out into the bay.  "You must have been quite close with her then."

"We were like sisters," began Katherine, the smile never leaving her face.  "We spent four years in each other's company and I believe it is perfectly acceptable to say that we kept each other sane in that dreadful school.  She has a wonderful, dry sense of humor, and never seemed to mind my boisterous personality."  She glanced over to James, who was about to open his mouth and say something witty about Katherine's personality.  "Don't even think it, James Norrington!" she spat as she noticed the sarcastic look in her brother's eyes.  James merely smiled and spread his hands as if he had nothing to do with it.  

"I was actually thinking of having Gillette down for tea this afternoon," he said as he changed the subject.  "I shall send for a carriage and assist him.  I'm sure that an hour or two out of the hospital would do him good."

"I thought you said you were going out this afternoon?" stated Katherine curiously.

James stood up as he turned back toward her.  "I have a small bit of business to complete with one of my officers, then I shall assist Gillette back here for tea."

"Whatever happened to you not approving of him seeing me?" asked Katherine with a playful tone.  She was pleased, though somewhat confused, over her brother's change of heart.  James simply looked at her.

"Well he is my friend, too," he said he donned his wig and hat.  "The Commodore is allowed to establish some sort of personal connection with other human beings on a higher level than simple military courtesy, you know."

"And what, then, is your hesitation?" she demanded.

James lifted his arms in an attempt to express himself, but let them fall back to his sides.  "The entire situation is strange, that is all…"

"Strange?"

"Awkward," James covered.  "Because he is both my subordinate and my friend, it makes the entire idea of him seeing you quite awkward for me."

Katherine scoffed and glared up at James.  "And have you ever considered how it felt for either Matthieu or me?  Good God, James, it's not simply about you," she stated calmly as a well-meaning smile crossed her face.  

"I said I would discuss this with the both of you, and I most certainly will.  However," he paused has he straightened his cravat, "it will have to be at a later date.  I am off to the Fort for a time being, and will return in time for tea with Lievtenant Gillette in tow."

The Commodore departed quickly and enjoyed the fleeting carriage ride to Fort Charles.  Upon his arrival he sent for Captain Martin.  The words the two had exchanged the week before on the docks would finally be dealt with.  Norrington sighed as he entered his office and placed his hat on the cluttered desk.  He paused as he stood and fingered the stacks of paper that had found their way to the top of the fine carved wood, and shook his head at the thought.  _It isn't enough worrying about drowning in the ocean that drowning in paperwork is my largest concern…_James made himself comfortable behind the desk and had just begun sorting through new rosters when a knock fell upon the door.  He paused as he held one of the papers and looked at the door.  Norrington was certainly not looking forward to the following conversation, but he had enough of Martin's poor demeanor.  The time for action had come.  He placed the paper back on the desk and stood up as he straightened his waistcoat and approached the door.  The Commodore grasped the knob and drew a breath before opening the door and peering down at Captain Martin.

"Commodore Norrington," saluted Martin with a taste of irritation.  "You wished to speak to me, sir."

Norrington studied Martin for a moment as he towered over the older officer.  Martin's graying hair was stuffed under his powdered wig, and his white cravat was done untidily and tucked into his waistcoat.  James refrained from shaking his head.  Martin was out on leave that week, but that was certainly no excuse for a less-than-neat appearance in uniform.  "Yes, Captain.  Please, come in and sit down."  Martin nodded and took a seat across from the Commodore's desk.  Norrington closed the door and slowly made his way back to his desk with his hands folded carefully behind his back.  "I believe you know why I asked you here, Captain, so let us dispense with the pretense," James started.  He came to stand behind his desk and looked down at Martin.  "I have found your conduct most inappropriate and disappointing.  Your lack of enthusiasm and dedication to your duties make it quite difficult for me to entrust you with the safety of the vessels and communities under our protection, and your poor attitude is affecting my staff in a negative manner -" 

"I protest," Martin instinctively leaned forward in his chair as he moved to defend himself.  His face had become quite red with the searing hatred he had for Norrington and the entire situation he now found himself in.

"You will say nothing, Captain," declared Norrington as he quickly spread his arms along the table and hovered over Martin.  "You forget on a regular basis that _I_ hold the rank here, and you will show me the appropriate courtesy or face the consequences.  I have had enough of your incessant complaining and protests, and will tolerate them no more.  You are an officer of the line and a gentleman by rank, and therefore I expect far more civilized behavior from your manner.  Now, if my position here is a source of embarrassment or resentment for you, I highly suggest you put it behind you.  I am not here to make your career miserable or thrust you into the very pit of humiliation you so openly dread," asserted Norrington as he gracefully took his seat across from Martin and continued to look confidently into his eyes.  "I am here as the commander of Fort Charles and the Port Royale fleet, and you, sir, are one of my more experienced officers.  My duty is to protect all those who fall under my reach.  It is _your_ duty to see your orders through in the best interests of the fleet.  And though you may very well protest, I am the Commodore because I possess the greatest familiarity in the Caribbean and the threats that exist here.  If we found ourselves in the North Sea, I am quite sure the situation would be reversed."

The Captain began to ease back into the chair, but the grimace had not left his face.  He was incensed to be reprimanded by a much younger, less experienced officer.  Norrington sat still and observed Martin's expression.  James knew that Martin was embarrassed of his post and the fact that Norrington was so much younger than he.  But Norrington would be damned to grovel, as he was sure Martin would have wished, simply due to seniority.  Secondly, the man did not deserve it.   Moments later Martin gathered his hat and stood.  "I expect full cooperation from you in the future, Captain," said Norrington as he stood up from behind his desk and approached Martin.  The older officer looked up at the Commodore as he replaced his hat and saluted half-heartedly.  Once Martin had left, James sighed and moved back to his chair and quickly gathered the appropriate paperwork to take home and sort through in peace.  He then placed his cover back on his head and walked out toward the hospital ward with great purpose in his step.

Lievtenant Gillette had been studying one of the older supply lists for the _Navigator_ – which he had demanded out of pure boredom – when he heard a brisk knock on his door.  "Enter," he said, his tone lifting some in anticipation.  James opened the door slowly and stuck his head in.

"Matthieu," Norrington said as he entered the room and closed the door.  A small smile played at the corners of his mouth as he gazed upon his longtime friend and second in command.  "How is my best Lievtenant this fine day?"

Gillette turned to the Commodore and smiled.  "Your best Lievtenant would greatly appreciate it if you would do him the courtesy of a pistol to the head," he said sardonically as he shook his head.  "James, you _have_ to tell Quinlan to ease off.  I shall go quite mad with him constantly hovering over me!"

James chuckled as he sat on the corner of the bed.  "I nearly feel sorry for you, being in such close proximity to our dear surgeon's reach.  But of course, you are not the only one who's been obsessed over," he sighed.  

Gillette tilted his head in confusion.  "He's been hounding you then as well?"

"To no end," James said through gritted teeth.  "Aiden is a dear acquaintance of mine, but I fear his unremitting medical pursuits and damned wit will do me in as well."  Norrington turned to Gillette in disbelief.  "He comes to my house and gives me grief.  There is no escaping him."

"I somehow manage to believe that, actually," Gillette said as he nodded slowly.  His eyebrows raised in thought.  "I cannot imagine what Miss Katherine thinks of the situation."

James placed a hand behind him on the bed and leaned back.  "She _encourages_ him, you know…thinks it is amusing," he said with a straight tone and a grimace.  "So in short, Matthieu, I would be happy to tell Quinlan to ease off, but it would not do either of us a bit of good.  He would simply declare I was still concussed and continue to make our lives miserable."

"And Katherine would be enjoying every moment of it," assumed Gillette with a nod.

"Exactly," declared James.  He looked away and then stood up.  "I am here to invite you to tea at my house this afternoon, should you decide to escape the dungeon.  I recently finished with Martin and my desk is positively buried in outstanding rosters, recruitments, manifests, and one or two dinner party invitations which I have _no_ intention of attending with any sort of pleasure - "

"You spoke with Martin?" inquired Gillette as he painfully leaned forward in interest and grinned.  "Well, you are still alive, so it could not have gone too badly.  You didn't threaten to hang him from a yardarm, did you?" he asked intently.

"Of course not!" Norrington retorted.  "Though, it is not as if the thought did not cross my mind.  Come, get dressed and I shall meet you just outside the door.  I have a carriage waiting.  We must leave without drawing too much attention to ourselves, because I have not exactly cleared this with the surgeon."

"Covert operations, I like it," whispered Gillette with a grin.

Within the half-hour the two arrived at Norrington's house.  Gillette managed to get around well enough on his own, albeit somewhat slowly.  The fresh air and change of scenery was doing him quite a bit of good.  He, Norrington, and Katherine made themselves comfortable in the sitting room as tea was served.  Their conversation was lively and eventually found itself on the subject of the _Black Pearl_ and the goings-on of three months prior.

"I am not entirely sure I understand the situation.  You're telling me you fought dead pirates?" inquired Katherine as she tried to keep the confusion to a minimum.  She glanced over to her left at James, who simply leaned forward to take more tea.  She looked back across the table to Gillette.  He paused and blinked as he tried to find the appropriate words to describe the events.

"Well, not so much 'dead'…just…not living," he said.  His glance darted from Katherine, to his teacup, and then across to Norrington, who was now staring at him incredulously.

"Matthieu, that has to be the _worst_ explanation I have ever heard," James muttered as he continued to stare at Gillette.

Katherine quickly turned to her brother, her cup still in her hand.  "How does the great Commodore explain it, then?" she asked playfully.

Norrington paused for a moment.  He had been through this scenario several times with countless ladies and gentlemen of the Port Royale gentry, all to no avail.  They usually left the conversation more confused than they had entered.  James drew a breath and continued.  "They were cursed, and so they could not die.  They needed Mr. Turner's blood to lift the curse, but were not going to do so until they had eliminated the threat I posed, and so they fought us.  There is nothing on this earth quite like dueling with an undead skeleton pirate.  No matter how hard we fought, they simply did not drop.  I ran the same one through perhaps half a dozen times with absolutely no result.  They just kept pressing, and pressing, and…" James glanced over to Katherine and noticed her blank expression.  "…and you're not believing a word I'm saying."

Katherine simply placed her cup on the tray as she smiled and took James's right arm.  "I think you knocked your head a bit harder than we first anticipated."  He simply stared at her in his loss for words.

"No no no…It's not James, Katherine," said Gillette quickly.  "Ask anyone – Governor Swann, Miss Swann, Mr. Turner.  Ask any of our men.  Mr. Murtogg and Mr. Mullroy, for example, talk of it quite often."

Norrington turned to Gillette and groaned.  "Don't ask Mr. Murtogg," he pleaded through gritted teeth.  "I have _just_ gotten the man focusing at the present Fort activities, and the last thing anyone needs is a reason for him to go off analyzing the situation again."  Gillette and Katherine merely looked at each other and chuckled softly.  She then patted James on the arm once and stood up from the couch as she made her way to the neglected harpsichord sitting in the far corner of the room.  She delicately ran her fingers over the keys before glancing back at James and Matthieu, who were both watching her intently.  

"I realize you both have had a difficult week," she started as she looked at the two gentlemen.  "I composed something on the crossing from England and have waited patiently for the opportunity to share it with you.  I think now is a good time, is it not?" she asked as an eager smile crossed her face.  James leaned back on the couch and spread his arm along the back as he watched his sister.  Katherine gingerly took her seat at the harpsichord as her hands found their place along the keyboard.  Almost instantly a soft melody filled the room, followed by a wave of sweeping chords as Katherine lifted her voice above the music.  Her words flew from her heart as she became lost in the powerful melody.

_"They say there's a place, where dreams have all gone._

_They never say where, but I think I know._

_It's miles through the night, just over the dawn._

_On the road that will take me home._

_I know in my bones I've been here before,_

_The ground feels the same, though the land's been torn._

_I've a long way to go, the stars tell me so,_

_On this road that will take me home._

_Love waits for me round the bend,_

_Leads me endlessly on,_

_Surely sorrows shall find their end_

_And all our troubles will be gone._

_And I'll know what I've lost,_

_And all that I've won,_

_When the road finally takes me home._

_And when I pass by, don't lead me astray._

_Don't try to stop me, don't stand in my way._

_I'm bound for the hills, where cool waters flow_

_On this road that will take me home._

_Love waits for me round the bend,_

_Leads me endlessly on,_

_Surely sorrows shall find their end_

_And all our troubles will be gone._

_And I'll know what we've lost,_

_And all that we've won,_

When the road finally takes me home. I'm going home… 

_I'm going home…_

A soft, satisfied smile gradually invaded James's expression as Katherine finished.  He had forgotten her passion for music.  Gillette remained still as he stared at the lovely figure at the harpsichord.  Matthieu knew very little about music, but he could tell from the passion she poured into the lyrics that the song meant a great deal to her.

"Positively splendid, Katherine," said James as he stood up and gazed at his sister.

"If I may be so bold," started Matthieu, "what was the inspiration?"

Katherine turned to him and grinned before approaching James.  "You were," she said softly as she looked up at her brother.  "You, and my chance to experience freedom and life without bounds."  She quickly stole a glance at Gillette.  "I am home now."

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­_Song lyrics for "Going Home" copyright 2002 by Mary Fahl.  Taken off the Gods and Generals soundtrack._

_And thank you all for waiting patiently for the updates to Broadsides.  I have been struggling with the move back to school and internet connectivity problems in my residence hall, so getting on here to work on things has been difficult at best.  Look back here often because the story's about to get good!  Thank you for your wonderful comments, I greatly appreciate them._


	18. The Cavalier Arrives

The _Cavalier_ Arrives

"James, perhaps it would be best to simply leave Darby home and travel in the carriage."  Katherine's words did not register with Commodore Norrington as he continued to obsess over the fine blue saddlecloth.  He quickly ran a hand over the horse's grey mane as he neatly placed the bridle on Darby's head and adjusted it.  Katherine stood in the stable doorway with her arms crossed, impatiently tapping her foot on the stone floor as she quickly looked over her burgundy dress.

"Hovering over us is not going to make this go any faster, you know," James teased as he glanced over his shoulder at his sister.  Katherine's arms flew to her sides in frustration.

"She's going to arrive any second!" she exclaimed.  

James chuckled softly under his breath as he put the finishing touches on Darby's tack.  Patience was something that his sister never had a good grip on.  She was likely to pull the carriage herself in her haste to get to the docks.  James then turned to Katherine and motioned for her to make for the carriage as he led the big grey out of the stable.  "Matthieu's waiting in the carriage, dear sister.  Besides, the _Cavalier_'s crew will need a few moments to secure the vessel before anyone or anything is allowed to disembark.  I highly doubt Mr. Meyerson or Miss Reynolds will be pressed to boredom by the time we arrive," James said as he flashed a smile at Katherine.  She merely shook her head as she turned and hastily made her way to the carriage.  Katherine could not contain the bright grin that had invaded her expression hours ago when she learned that _Cavalier_, the frigate that was carrying her dear friend Melissa Reynolds, was to be docking that day in Port Royale.  The day was utterly spectacular – the wind was fair, and the sun shone as brightly as Katherine's smile.  They had been enjoying fine weather the past few weeks, and Katherine only hoped that it would continue so that Melissa could experience the magnificent atmosphere in the Caribbean.

Lievtenant Gillette slowly stepped out of the carriage as he heard Katherine approaching.  He noticed her glowing expression and smiled to himself as he held the door open for her.

"Miss Norrington, how nice to see you," he stated with almost a satirical courtesy as he stiffly bowed.  Katherine laughed at his manner as she paused to look him over.

"Matthieu, you really should not be up and about," she suggested earnestly.

Gillette glanced back up at Katherine.  "Between lying in bed like an invalid and gallivanting about with you, I much prefer the latter," he declared.  "Mostly due to the fact that it _is_ gallivanting about with you, and not with Doctor Quinlan."

"He does not know where you've gone, does he?" asked Katherine incredulously as she narrowed her eyes.

"The Commodore and I prefer to call these little meetings 'covert operations,' actually," he stated as he raised his eyebrows and smiled once more at Katherine.  Gillette then looked beyond her to Norrington, who was just now mounting the horse yards away.  "You are without doubt the _slowest_ officer I have ever seen."

James quickly reined Darby around to face the carriage.   His face was stony and his tone expressionless as usual.  "I could still leave you at the Fort and under the implacable eye of our wonderful surgeon, Lievtenant," he teased.

Gillette's expression paled at Norrington's playful threat.  "I would give you up," he declared, standing up to his full height.  "I would tell him you fell off your horse and send the entire medical wing after you.  It would be worse than the undead skeleton pirates, James, I promise you."  Matthieu raised his eyebrows once more and waited for his comrade's response.

"You are getting dreadfully bold in your debilitated state, Matthieu," James stated as he fought back a smile.  He then pointed at the waiting carriage.  "Get in the carriage…that's an _order_…"  Katherine and Gillette did so and moments later they were trotting out of the drive with Norrington leading.  Port Royale was crowded with merchants, gentlemen, and ladies enjoying the fine day.  The bustling shops were lined with customers that turned when they saw the approaching horses.  The Commodore nodded in acknowledgement periodically as he made his way through town on the magnificent Irish horse.  Eventually the convoy arrived at the docks, and Norrington dismounted and handed Darby off to non other than Privates Murtogg and Mullroy, who were less than thrilled with the enterprise of entertaining the young horse.

"He's much more agreeable than when you first met him," assured Norrington as he straightened his hat and handed over the reins.

"He'll be right here waiting for you whenever you're ready, sir," said Mullroy.  "Hopefully you won't be long."  Norrington shook his head and moved off toward the carriage to join Katherine and Gillette in greeting the _Cavalier_.  Meanwhile, the two privates looked on.

"He's a bit smaller than last time, don't you think?" inquired Murtogg as he moved in front of the horse to inspect him.

"No, but he's not trying to kill us if that's what you're getting at," huffed Mullroy.  Right then Darby decided he had enough of simply standing there and playfully took Mullroy's hat in his teeth and lifted it off his head, waving it around out of either man's reach.

"You bloody rogue!" spat Mullroy as he reached after his hat in vain.  

"I think he wants to wear it," declared Murtogg with an air of complete seriousness.  

"No, he just wants to eat it.  Now help me get it back," Mullroy demanded.  Murtogg simply stepped back and stared at his comrade.  He then pulled out a small piece of bread he had in his pocket and offered it to the big grey.  Darby instinctively dropped Mullroy's hat and eagerly devoured the offering.  Murtogg quickly picked up the hat and placed it atop the horse's head.

"There!  You are now Private Darby of His Majesty's Royal Navy," Murtogg declared officially as a dumb, satisfied smile spread across his face.  Commodore Norrington was standing beside Katherine and Lievtenant Gillette at the docks when he glanced behind him and saw Darby standing between the two Marines with a hat on his poll.

"Unbelievable," he muttered.  Gillette instinctively turned and noticed the comical sight as well.  "Mr. Murtogg!" said Norrington with his usual calm, commanding tone.  "It would be best if you spared us the humiliation and left the horse alone…"

Murtogg turned, surprised, to address the Commodore as he quickly grabbed the hat off Darby's head and threw it at Mullroy.  Murtogg then subtly pointed at Mullroy, who dually returned the favor by smacking Murtogg on the arm.

Gillette slowly turned back toward the dock and glanced at Norrington as he shook his head.  "There is something seriously wrong with those two," he lamented.  

James merely sighed and continued to study the _Cavalier_.  She was a modest sized frigate, slightly smaller than the HMS _Hambleton.  _ Her elegant figurehead and bowsprit pointed proudly to sea.  The windows lining the very aft portion of the ship were humble, but beautifully kept.  From his vantage point on the dock, Norrington noticed the deck was organized and the crew straight on task.  All in all, she appeared to be a fine vessel with a practical owner.  James turned briefly to Katherine, who was quite occupied with scanning the faces aboard the _Cavalier_, looking for Melissa Reynolds.  All of a sudden he noticed her expression overcome with unbridled joy as her hands flew to her mouth.  Katherine paused for a moment before waiving her right arm in the air to get Melissa's attention, practically knocking James silly in the process.  He took a step back to avoid Katherine's flailing and looked up at the aft deck of the _Cavalier_…there stood a beautiful young lady.  She disappeared momentarily before being spotted once more on the gangway.  Katherine rushed forward to meet her cherished friend as Norrington and Gillette looked on.  

"I am going to assume Miss Reynolds is the tall blonde lady that Katherine is about to tackle," stated Gillette as he put his good arm behind his back.

"I should hope so, at least she'll expect what's coming.  Katherine has a tendency to hit like a broadside," said James without looking at his subordinate.  He then began to study Miss Reynolds.  "She is lovely, is she not?" he inquired as he lowered his voice so as not to attract attention.  Gillette smirked and quickly glanced in disbelief over to Norrington, who was still staring at the new arrival.  

"Too bold, Commodore," said the Lievtenant with an amused little smile.  Norrington quickly broke his stare and turned to Gillette, utterly speechless.  James went to say something to him, but speech failed him when he realized the situation was reversed from Katherine's arrival.  Norrington simply shook his head and folded his hands behind his back in an attempt to mask his embarrassment.  Gillette stood fast and continued to smile triumphantly.  Norrington turned to him once more.

"Remove that ridiculous smile from your expression, Lievtenant," ordered the Commodore.  

"Yes, sir," responded Gillette.  He tried earnestly to do so, but not before practically laughing out loud at the irony.

James rolled his eyes as he looked away from his subordinate.  "Unbelievable," he muttered.  He then found Katherine once more as she approached through the crowd.  She was leading a tall woman – perhaps an inch or two taller than Katherine.  Her hair blonde hair was neatly styled, and her skin was quite fair.  Miss Reynolds's eyes darted back and forth on the dock as they made their way through the mass of people.  She looked somewhat distraught at the situation, but continued to follow Katherine.  The pair stopped just in front of James and Gillette.  Katherine sighed as she smiled and took James's arm.

"Melissa, may I introduce my brother, Commodore James Edward Norrington of His Majesty's Royal Navy, and commander of the armed forces based here in Port Royale," declared Katherine proudly.  James flashed a stiff little smile before stepping forward to take Melissa's hand.

"It is a great pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Reynolds," said James with his usual official manner as he kissed her hand with all the formality of a monarch.  "Welcome to Port Royale."

Melissa smiled as she began to relax some.  "I have heard so much about you, Commodore," she began.  Melissa quickly glanced between James and Katherine, who were now looking rather confused.  "Not from your sister, of course, but so many sailors.  I lived in Portsmouth for some time, and knew quite a few young officers that have ventured to the Americas and Caribbean.  Your reputation precedes you, sir."  Melissa smiled as she studied the Commodore.  _Tall, handsome, undoubtedly spoken for already_, she thought.  She did have a bit of trouble reading his face, but most people did, and she had seen that expression before.  Most officers she knew seemed to favorite it.  

"Well I hope the reputation going around is a respectable one," James joked.

Melissa chuckled.  "It is, I assure you."

Katherine bit her lip as she watched Melissa and James exchange pleasantries.  Though she would never admit it, she had hopes that Melissa would be right for her brother.  She knew that behind both their facades were people that could probably get along quite well.  Katherine quickly shook off the thought as she moved over to Matthieu.  "Melissa, this is Lievtenant Matthieu Rhodes Gillette, also of His Majesty's Royal Navy."  Gillette and Melissa also exchanged greetings.  Just then, a portly older gentleman with thick sideburns walked up to the group.  Melissa noticed him and quickly smiled as she motioned for him to join her.  Seconds later a young man of about 15 years appeared at their side.

"This is my uncle, Mr. Joshua Meyerson, and my brother, Marcus," she started as she took Meyerson's left arm and looked around the group.  "Uncle, this my dear friend Katherine Norrington; Commodore Norrington, commander of the Port Royale fleet; and Lievtenant Gillette."

Meyerson stepped forward and offered his hand to James.  "An honor to meet you, Commodore.  I trust my ships will be perfectly safe in your harbor," he said pleasantly.  

Norrington took Meyerson's hand.  "Your trust is well placed, Mr. Meyerson.  I do admit we hold our own here in Port Royale."

"Hold your own?" scoffed Meyerson as he turned to his young nephew.  "Marcus, the Commodore here is often regarded as the great pirate hunter himself.  I hardly think 'holding our own' describes your effectiveness, Commodore," finished the older gentleman.

"You've seen pirates?" inquired Marcus eagerly, forgetting all propriety.  "That must be terribly exciting."

Norrington smiled and quickly glanced down.  That last remark reminded him of a young Elizabeth Swann and her opinion of pirates.  He was about to respond when Gillette beat him to it.

"Dead, or live ones?  Or undead, rather…we've seen both," he said with a proud smile.  It quickly faded from his face when he glanced around and noticed the blatant confusion amongst the expressions of Melissa, Marcus, and Joshua Meyerson.  Gillette turned and looked at Norrington, who was yet again staring at him in disbelief.  Matthieu nodded and hastily excused himself as he retreated to the carriage in embarrassment.

"You will have to excuse him," covered Katherine.  "He and the Commodore here were both injured a short while ago on one of their pirate hunts.  I'm afraid our dear Lievtenant is not feeling quite himself."  Moments later the group moved to the wagons and carriages to make their way toward Meyerson's new property.  Norrington turned to approach his horse, only to find Darby flinging Mullroy's hat once more above the beleaguered men's heads in his bored and unforgiving jaws.  James sighed as he reached up and pulled that hat from Darby's teeth and handed it back to Mullroy.  Norrington then mounted and followed the line of vehicles up the hill and away from the docks.


	19. Wedding Favor

Wedding Favor 

"She took about a dozen good hits, sir.  Most of the breaches were on the lower gun deck," noted Lievtenant Jeffrey Pearce.  Commodore Norrington leaned over the port bulkhead and gazed down the hull of the massive _Dauntless_ and studied the bit of damage he could see.  This was the first opportunity he had to see the progress on the damage inflicted from the last battle with Captain Hunter's two vessels.

"And how are the repairs coming, Lievtenant?" Norrington inquired with his usual steady tone.

Pearce looked back over to the Commodore.  "We're quite finished with the hull and deck repairs, sir.  Just scratches, in all honesty, considering the size of the enemy vessels.  We did have to replace one of the 32 pounders, but then again you are already aware of that."

Norrington stood back up and nodded.  "Indeed, a cracked barrel does us no good," he said casually as his gazed moved around the weather deck of the _Dauntless_.  He folded his hands behind his back as he started toward the starboard bulkhead.  Lievtenant Pearce dually followed and watched as Norrington absently ran his right hand over the wood where the paint had been chipped away, undoubtedly from stray bullets.  

"You used up your luck that day, if you don't mind my saying, sir," stated Pearce from behind Norrington. 

James scoffed under his breath and hinted at a smile.  "I daresay I did," he said as he glanced out into the crystal blue water.

"Any word as to Gillette's return, Commodore?" inquired Pearce as he looked over Norrington's shoulder.

Norrington turned back to face the Lievtenant.  "He should be on restricted duty within a fortnight.  Or whenever Quinlan is kind enough to discharge him," he said with a bit of sarcasm.  

Pearce chuckled softly.  "I am not sure Gillette will agree with the 'restricted duty' part of it, sir, even if the good doctor did relinquish him from his grasp…"

"Than he shall have to learn to cope, Lievtenant.  If not, than Gillette will be forced to deal with me, rather than Quinlan.  However, I shall be angry, whereas Aiden is only annoying.  I do not think Matthieu would wish that upon anyone," Norrington concluded with a satisfied nod.  He glanced down once more at the scarred bulkhead railing.  "Have that repainted immediately," he said.  Norrington then dismissed himself, having found the Port Royale fleet completely seaworthy, save for a minor paint chip or two.  He returned to his office in time to gather his things and depart for home.  

James did not get that far, however.  "Bloody hell," he muttered as he studied the loose shoe on Darby's left front foot.  He glanced back up at the horse as he patted the big grey's shoulder.  "You do enjoy making my life difficult, do you not?"  Darby then reached around and grabbed the hilt of Norrington's fine saber and began to pull it from the scabbard.  "No, no, no!" James insisted in alarm as he grabbed the horse's nose and gave it a squeeze.  "That could be quite detrimental to the two of us."  Norrington replaced the deadly weapon and quickly determined that the shoe was good enough to make it to the blacksmith's.  The horse was in need of a shoeing anyhow.  "It appears as if we are going to pay Mr. Turner a visit," James said unemotionally as he mounted up and patted Darby's neck.  

Norrington was not thrilled at the prospect of going to see Will.  Meetings between the two since the _Black Pearl_ incident were awkward at best.  James had always respected Will for his enthusiasm and dedication, though he certainly did not agree with Turner's decision to engage in piracy.  Discretion was the element of which the two gentlemen did not see eye to eye.  James could think of a dozen other ways to go about rescuing Elizabeth, but commandeering a ship of the Fleet and gallivanting around the Caribbean with a crew of drunken buccaneers was not one of them.  Norrington rolled his eyes at the thought as he pulled Darby up in front of the forge.  _It's all in the past_, he thought to himself as he dismounted.  _Rash or not, the boy did a noble thing, and most of all he did it for Elizabeth.  _James could not hold anything against Will or Elizabeth for being true to their hearts.  They were thoroughly in love, no one could deny that now or even three months prior.  Not even the outwardly cold, emotionless Commodore Norrington.  He, too, loved Elizabeth, but he would never hold her to her oath and force her a man she did not truly love.  As much as he suffered now, James knew Elizabeth would have suffered far greater if she had been forced to keep her promise to him.  _It would have been a lie_, James thought as he moved toward the door and knocked.  Moments later the old wooden door opened and Will Turner appeared.

"Commodore Norrington, what an unexpected surprise," started Will.  He was caught completely off guard by the Commodore's presence, for he rarely saw him in this portion of Port Royale, let alone his forge.  Will reached up and wiped the sweat away from his brow that accumulated from his feverish work at the anvil.  

"Good day, Mr. Turner," greeted Norrington officially.  He studied Will's disheveled appearance and figured he had caught the young blacksmith in the middle of a project.  "I apologize for the intrusion, but I was hoping you would have the time to tack on some shoes to this fine animal behind me," James said as Darby nudged him from behind and practically sending him crashing into Will.  

"Fine animal?" Will questioned as a smirk crossed his face.

"Brash and indignant," clarified Norrington as he recovered and took a step back toward Darby.

Will nodded and then turned to open the larger door to the forge.  "Of course, Commodore.  I was in the middle of crafting a sword, but not for a customer.  That may wait.  Bring him in and I'll do it right now," he said, turning back into the forge to gather the supplies.  James sighed as he led the snorting Darby into the forge, trying to avoid being trampled as the horse spooked at the donkey in the corner.  Will chuckled at the horse's spirit.

"One should think that he's never seen a donkey before," he said as he tied on his leather apron.

"He's quite convinced I am going to save him from this terrifying situation," James teased, his tone emotionless as ever.  

"I reckon I have not seen this one before," noted Will as he studied the imposing grey animal.  He was always surprised that the Commodore traveled so far out of his way to have his horses shod at Brown's forge.  He had mentioned to Will along time ago that the farriers at the Fort had no talent for their craft, and the horses ended up the worse for it.  Norrington never seemed like the type to take any great interest in horses, or so Will thought, but indeed the man was as careful with them as he was with his warships.  

"No, this one is new.  An Irish gelding my sister brought over weeks ago," James explained as Darby reached out and began chewing quite contently on the sleeve of his uniform.

"And how old?" asked Will as he tried to keep from smiling too much.

"The insufferable age of six," lamented Norrington as he pulled his sleeve from Darby's jaws.  The young horse then began chewing on the reins, which James also pulled away.  He then tried once more at Norrington's saber, which earned him a gentle slap on the muzzle.  Darby finally gave up looking for entertainment on James's person and began lipping Will's hair.  "Enough," demanded James as he pulled the horse's head back up.  James smiled, and then gently played with the Darby's lips to keep the young animal occupied.  

Will turned and glanced up at the Commodore and noticed that he genuinely appeared content.  He could not remember the last time he had seen the Commodore actually smiling for the sake of smiling.  _Interesting_, he thought.  Will had always respected Norrington.  He had spent eight years growing up in Port Royale and watched Norrington rise through the ranks with great success here in the Caribbean.  James had even shown the young Will one or two techniques with the sword as well.  Will acknowledged their differences in opinion and style, but had to respect the man for the honorable gentleman he was.  The Commodore was far too meticulous and cautious for Will's taste – perhaps even dull, but at the very least honorable.  Will took the Commodore's good mood into account and decided this was perhaps the opportune moment to as for a great favor.  He moved to the furnace and stuck in a shoe before turning to Norrington.

"Commodore, if I may," Will began somewhat nervously.  He had lost his awkward boyishness around the more important members of society after his adventure with the _Black Pearl_, but the impending conversation made him uneasy.  "I should like to ask a favor of you."

Norrington glanced up at Will and continued to finger Darby's lips.  "What may I do for you, Mr. Turner?" he inquired.

Will drew a breath before continuing.  "I realize what I am about to ask of you is a great deal, and I may be overstepping my bounds, but it would mean the world to both myself and Elizabeth.  I should like to ask your permission for Jack Sparrow to attend our wedding next month," he said rather hastily as he drew another breath and straightened back up.

Norrington instinctively paused.  It was only when Darby tried to bite his hand off did he snap back to action.  Allow Sparrow back in Port Royale?  It was unheard of.  Simply because James felt the desire to let the pirate escape that day at the gallows did not mean that he was about to welcome the rogue with open arms.  Doing so would go against everything Norrington stood for and worked so hard at his entire career.  If Sparrow came back, James would be bound by duty to hang the man, and that was not something he entirely wanted to see.  As annoying as Jack Sparrow was, he was just that…_annoying_.  He was not a rapist or a heartless murderer.  He was a rash, annoying, odd man who had done an honorable deed.  Norrington honestly felt it would be wrong to have the man hanged, but it would be far worse to simply allow him to jaunt about Port Royale with no repercussions.  James straightened himself up as he once again put on his commanding air of the Commodore.  "I am afraid that won't be possible, Mr. Turner.  I cannot allow a declared pirate and enemy of the Crown in Port Royale, as much as I should like to be of assistance to both you and Miss Swann."

Will relaxed some.  "I understand that this goes against your very presence here, Commodore, but I owe Jack this courtesy -  my life, if need be.  I can assure you he will not stir any trouble during his stay.  I shall be completely responsible for his actions should you consider that fair."

"What I consider 'fair,' Mr. Turner, is Mr. Sparrow staying well away from my sights," stated Norrington.  "I allowed him to escape once as a thank you for his assistance.  He is not welcome here at any given time.  Royal Navy policy."

Will could see Norrington's patience drawing thin.  "What if I promise you he shall arrive the morning of, and be well on his way no more than an hour after the wedding?  He could be disguised so as not to attract attention.  He loves weddings - "

"Yes, I know…'Drinks all around' I believe was his eloquent saying," said Norrington as he refrained from rolling his eyes.  

"Please Commodore.  Consider it a wedding gift to both Miss Swann and myself.  And try to understand that I am taking your reputation into account, sir.  I know that Jack is quite capable of civilized behavior.  He will not do anything to force you to make any decisions he may regret," stated Will confidently as he lifted his chin and gazed at the Commodore.

"I shall have to consider this, Mr. Turner," Norrington said coldly.  Will nodded and returned to his work.  He was pleased the Commodore did not outright deny it, but at the same time he had not openly agreed.  Will would be patient and allow the man to think through the proposition.  Meanwhile, he finished trimming Darby's feet and placed four new shoes on the horse.  He rasped down parts of the hoof wall to make the foot blend smoothly into the shoe.

"Perfectly balanced," Will said as he stepped back to admire his work.  "The angle from the fetlock joint matches the foot angle exactly.  This animal has good hooves."

"Glad you think so," said James as he inspected the shoes.  "The so-called farriers up at the Fort would not have a clue as to what you just said."  James reached into his pocket and withdrew the appropriate amount of money.  Will looked over to him and waved one of his hands.

"No need for that, Commodore.  This job is on me."

James paused before taking another step toward Will.  "My decision regarding Mr. Sparrow will derive strictly from my discretion, Mr. Turner, not from complimentary handy work," he declared as he placed the money in Will's hand.  "Thank you for another fine job, Mr. Turner.  I shall inform you of my decision as soon as I reach one."  With that, James led Darby out of the forge and started back toward home, leaving Will alone once more to hover over the hot iron.


	20. Unexpected Guest

Unexpected Guest 

Norrington had not taken more then five paces from the forge when his words to Turner came back and struck him.  _What in the hell was I thinking?_ he asked himself in disbelief.  _Why did I ever allow the idea into my damned head?_  James's personal assault continued as he mounted Darby and started back toward home once more.  Norrington had not been promoted through the ranks with such blazing speed for no reason.  He had always demonstrated a great, unwavering sense of duty that made him one of the most trustworthy and promising young officers his superiors had ever seen.  James's dedication and skill in battle had served him well, earning him the title of Commodore and the honor of being one of the youngest captains in all of the Royal Navy.  And here he was, the textbook commanding officer, considering allowing a pirate such as Sparrow into Port Royale territory.  _Unheard of,_ James thought to himself.  The simple thought of doing Elizabeth a favor had opened up a door and weakened him in front of Turner.  He reined Darby to a sudden halt and spun the horse around on his haunches.     Norrington paused for a moment as he looked down the road.  The light was starting to fade, but this issue needed to be resolved.  He would not allow Will or Elizabeth any false hopes, and so he urged the big grey into a brisk canter back toward Brown's forge.

"The Commodore dropped by today," said Will quietly as he finished putting his tools away and turned toward Elizabeth.  "I inquired about Jack."

Elizabeth looked up from the sword she was studying.  "Dare I ask what he said?" she questioned sarcastically.  "Other than 'no,' of course…"

Will smiled softly.  "Actually, he said he would consider it," he declared, almost as if the change in the Commodore's thinking was a source of pride.

Elizabeth turned back toward Will with an exasperated expression.  "Will, you know he won't allow it.  So long as he's still capable of barking out orders, Jack will never be able to come here.  You should know that by now.  Besides, I do not believe the Commodore is in the right sorts these days."

"And why do you say that?" inquired Will as he furrowed his brow curiously.

"He's been avoiding me like the plague of late, Will.  I don't know…I've known the man for over eight years now and like to think that I am capable of reading the little emotion he has.  I doubt he would be so inclined to do me any favors, let alone go entirely against protocol and allow Jack Sparrow into Port Royale," Elizabeth declared with a slight nod of satisfaction.

"Well, it does not matter right now," said Will as he placed his apron across the anvil and walked over behind Elizabeth.  He placed a strong arm around her left shoulder and allowed his hand to slip deftly down her neck and toward her chest.  Will placed his right hand on her chin and guided her face back toward him as he leaned down and kissed her.  Elizabeth placed a loving hand on his cheek as they became lost in the kiss.  At that very moment a knock fell upon the door.  

Elizabeth reluctantly broke the embrace as she stood back and looked at the door.  "I should expect that is the Commodore now, coming to tell us to improve our taste in wedding guests," she said coolly.

Will grumbled before moving toward the door and slowly opening it.  It was certainly not the Commodore.  "May I help you, sir?" asked Will of the stranger before him.  The man was slightly shorter than Will and wore a long, black coat.  His garb seemed respectable and his long hair and beard well kept.  The man rapped his walking stick once on the cobblestone street before taking a step toward Will and speaking.

"Best to not leave old friends standing out in the street, mate."

Will froze at the sound of that voice.  That confident, perhaps even arrogant tone combined with the unforgettable swagger.  The man stepped forth from the shadows and revealed a predominantly golden smile.

"Jack…" stammered Will, his voice barely above a whisper.  "What are you _doing_ here?" he asked as he grabbed Jack's arm and dragged him into the forge.  

"A simple 'ello' would have done just fine, ye know," stated a somewhat disenchanted Jack Sparrow.  He straightened himself up and wrinkled his face as he looked around the forge.  "You really ought to do something with the place, mate," he said thoughtfully.  His gaze then fell on Elizabeth.  "Although, I must hand it to you Will, she makes a fine decoration."  Jack looked back at Will and flashed his trademark smile.

"Enough, Jack!" shouted Will as he quickly stepped up to Jack.  "What are you doing here?  You will be hanged if you're caught here."

"Well then let's hope I don't get caught, eh?" said Jack sarcastically.  He then turned back to Elizabeth and kissed her hand like a polished gentleman.  "Good evenin' to you, love."

Elizabeth shook her head and did her best to smother her smile.  "Good evening Jack Sparrow," she said.  "Would you care to tell me why you've come?" she asked sweetly, hoping to set Jack right.

"Seeing that you asked _so_ nicely," started Jack.  "I suppose I could.  You see, I figured you two would be doing the deed soon enough, so I thought it best to drop in and wish you the best of luck," he declared as he casually slapped Will on the back.

"Doing the deed?" asked a confused Elizabeth.

"Well, you know…" began Jack with a flurry of hand gestures.  It was quite obvious that the subject was not in his usual repertoire.

"Getting _married_?" inserted Will.

"That's it!" exclaimed Jack as he pointed back toward Will with a wide grin upon his face.  "You see, I was in the area and decided to give my best wishes now so as not to arouse suspicion.  I try to take advantage of the opportune moment…something dear William here does not do very well," Jack declared as he turned to Will with a overly sympathetic look.  He then threw his right arm around Will and his left around Elizabeth and drew them together.  Elizabeth stared somewhat contemptuously at his hand upon her shoulder and subtly shook her head.  

"Jack, your candor is nearly insulting," said Will as he placed his hand on his hip in silent frustration.

"No," retorted Jack.  "Insulting would be calling you a dainty silly little fairy man.  But you're not.  So it isn't.  But then again, if you were a dainty silly little fairy man, it would be the truth, not insulting.  Unless, of course, you did not like being a dainty, silly, little, or a fairy, in which case I suppose it would be insulting."

"Thank you, Jack," muttered Will.

"You're welcome.  Now," declared Jack as he turned back to Elizabeth.  "Let us celebrate and revel in the company of fine rum."  Jack then swaggered off about the forge looking for drinks, throwing aside various tools and supplies and sending them crashing into heaps along the wall.

Will gritted his teeth and strode to Sparrow's side.  "Not now, Jack!  You have to leave before you - "  His words trailed of as hoof beats were heard on the cobblestone just outside the forge.  

"Before I what?" inquired Jack.

"Get caught," affirmed Will.  He then shoved Jack into the corner by the stairs and shot a warning glance to Elizabeth as he approached the door and opened it cautiously.  Elizabeth followed.

"Commodore!  I trust I find you well," greeted Will, his tone elevated so as to carry back into the forge.  Elizabeth quickly glared at Jack before stepping outside to keep Norrington from discovering their unexpected guest.

"Mr. Turner, I – Miss Swann, good evening," greeted Norrington from atop Darby's back.  "I do not wish to detain you for long.  However, I should like to inform you that your request is simply not possible.  I cannot consciously overlook my duties to the Fleet or the people of Port Royale.  Mr. Sparrow and his kind are criminals and I am afraid the only hospitality I may show them is the noose," James declared.  Right then he heard a muffled sound from atop the roof of the forge.  He glanced upward suspiciously, but saw nothing.  

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Commodore.  I understand," lamented Will as he quickly glanced upward, having also heard the noise.  Suddenly a dark shadow leapt from the low roof and came plunging down on top of Norrington, taking him completely by surprise.  The two crashed onto the street as the horse scurried sideways in surprise.  Will instinctively jumped in front of Elizabeth in order to shield her from the danger as he watched the dark figure hover over the fallen Commodore.  The person looked up and revealed his identity.  "_Jack!_" exclaimed Will through gritted teeth.  "He was just about to leave!"

"Sorry about that, mate," said Jack apologetically to the now unconscious Norrington as he daintily patted the Commodore's shoulder.  "Couldn't have ya seein' me now, could I?"

"What have you done?" asked Elizabeth hastily as she approached the lifeless Norrington.  "Is he alright?"

"Aye, he'll be just fine," said Jack.  "Just a little bump."

"You dropped him head first into the cobblestone, Jack," noted Will with arms crossed.

"Royal Navy doesn't make 'em like they used to," declared Jack.  He and Will then moved Norrington into the forge with Elizabeth at their heels.  Will retrieved the spooked Darby and tied him in one of the stalls before returning back to Norrington's side.  

"Jack, I think it would be best if you go now.  Navy men are going to be searching the area soon enough wondering where he is, and you cannot be around for it.  It will be bad for all of us," said Will as he placed a confident hand on Jack's arm.  The pirate turned to him and paused for a moment and nodded.  He took both Elizabeth and Will by the arm and walked them toward the door.

"Now I want you both to listen very carefully," he started in a satirical, philosophical manner.  "These are the best years of your lives.  Now I want you to enjoy every day and live for freedom – don't be afraid to head on out there and do something.  And most importantly, when the opportune moment arises, take advantage of it."

Will turned thoughtfully to Jack and smiled softly as he held out his hand.  "Thank you Jack, for everything.  I never got to thank you before for all of your assistance, dishonest and unpredictable though it may be," he teased.

Sparrow happily shook Will's hand and grinned.  "Well you know I'm dishonest.  And a dishonest man you can always trust to be dishon-"

"I already heard it, Jack," said Will quickly as he held up his hand.  Elizabeth said her thanks and shortly Jack was back on his way to the docks under his disguise and the cover of nightfall.  He had a passage on a small merchant brig where he would meet up with the _Black Pearl_ in a day or two at another port.  Will smiled as he watched his friend slip into the night.  He was not saddened at all.  He knew that Captain Jack Sparrow would make another appearance in their lives, and Will would wait expectantly for that day.  He only hoped it would be on good terms, and not at the gallows.  Will chuckled and then turned back to the forge.

He found Elizabeth sitting next to Norrington, who was still quite unconscious.  He walked over and put an arm around her shoulders as he surveyed the damage.  "How is he?

Elizabeth fingered the handkerchief she was using and showed Will the blood.  "He hit the back of his head, but he's been moving some so I think he should come around soon enough."  Right then the Commodore began to stir and groaned quietly.  Elizabeth took hold of his sleeve.  "James…" she said softly in an attempt to comfort him.  She had only called him by his first name one other time – that day aboard the _Dauntless_ after accepting his proposal.  She did not truly mean it then, and she was not sure she meant it now.  She smiled some as he began to come around.

Elizabeth then turned to Will and whispered to him.  "Time to think of a brilliant story to save all our hides," she said with a smile.


	21. Brilliant Story

Brilliant Story 

"That may be a good idea," agreed Will as he removed his arm from Elizabeth's shoulder and stood up.  He began to pace back and forth, thinking to himself.  Elizabeth turned her attention back to the Commodore, who was beginning to stir where he was lying on the cart.  She studied him for a moment – his handsome features seemed somewhat worn, probably from work, but he certainly seemed younger with the absence of his wig.  She smiled softly as he drew a breath and opened his eyes slowly.  

"James…" she started quietly as she held onto his coat sleeve.  Will glanced over his shoulder from across the forge and watched for a moment before gracefully making his way to Elizabeth's side.  James shut his eyes against the invading light as he brought his left hand up to rub his face.  A sinking feeling in his stomach overcame him as he thought about consciousness.  He finally opened his eyes once more as Elizabeth spoke.  "James, are you well?" she asked with a hint of worry.  Elizabeth had known James since she was a little girl, and thought of him more as a close family friend than anything else.  He was composed and reliable always; never vulnerable.  She found the situation unique, if not slightly uncomfortable.

James quickly brought his hand down and turned his head toward her…perhaps too quickly.  The lightheadedness flew through his features as he grimaced and rolled painfully onto his left side.  He placed his right hand behind his head and felt his bloody scalp.  James rolled onto his back and sighed heavily as he allowed his arm to fall back onto the cart.  "What in the hell happened…?" he asked, the confusion mounting in his tone as he stared at the ceiling.

Elizabeth shot a glance up to Will, who paused for a moment as he drew a hesitant breath.  Her eyes searched his for a decent explanation to the situation that the Commodore now found himself in.  Will quickly made his way to the Commodore's side and straightened his posture.  He gave a reassuring glance to Elizabeth before he began.  "Commodore…you were attacked by a thief, sir, a half-crazed rogue, to be precise.  He jumped from the roof of the forge and came down right on top of you," Will declared as he looked once more at Elizabeth with a small, triumphant grin.

James furrowed his brow in bewilderment.  He drew himself up on one elbow and glanced at the couple next to him for a moment before becoming dizzy and collapsing back on the cart.  "Bloody hell…" he muttered under his breath.

Elizabeth allowed a small smile to cross her face as she drew closer to the Commodore.  "James," she began somewhat hesitantly.  "It would be best if you just remained still for a moment.  You fell and struck your head on the street."

"I should hope so, or else my health is failing miserably on its own," James declared.  The pounding in his skull seemed to be subsiding slowly, though he was still feeling quite disoriented.  "So, after the criminal fell from the sky, Mr. Turner, what happened next?  I don't suppose you apprehended him?"

Will shifted his stance.  "Unfortunately, Commodore, I did not.  I was unarmed at the time because I was out speaking with you.  For that reason and for the safety of Elizabeth, I did not pursue him."

James drew a frustrated breath.  "I'm having a troublesome time believing that some rogue attacked me for no reason, Mr. Turner," he said as he turned onto his right side and made to get up.  It was only then that the cart shifted off its blocks and rolled forward, dumping Norrington face first into the dirt floor of the forge.  He lay there a moment in a heap before Elizabeth broke the silence.

"Brilliant, James," she remarked with a smirk.  "Now, would you like to take my advice now and stay still?"

James sighed.  "I am quite capable of standing, thank you Miss Swann," he declared as he painfully picked himself up off the floor.  

Elizabeth shook her head.  "It's Elizabeth.  And of course you're capable of standing; I suppose that would be why you fell off the cart just now," she declared confidently.  Will had to force away the impending laughter.  Elizabeth was always upfront about her thoughts when in private – it was one of her qualities that both Will and James appreciated.  She smiled some before taking James sternly by the sleeve and sitting him down on the nearest bench.  Will soaked a rag in water and handed it to her before making his way to stand in front of Norrington.  Elizabeth stood behind James and began to delicately apply the cloth to the back of his head as she listened to Will speak.

"It may seem strange, sir, but I assure you it is what happened," he said as he looked down at the irritated Commodore.  Will decided a change of subject would improve the situation.  "I would like to apologize, Commodore."

James looked up to Will and flinched as Elizabeth began to examine the wound.  "You want to apologize for some half-crazed idiot in a drunken stupor falling from a rooftop and taking me down in the street, Mr. Turner?" he asked sarcastically.

Will shook his head.  "No, sir.  I wish to apologize for putting you in an awkward situation regarding Mr. Sparrow.  It was selfish of me to think allowing him here would even be possible," he said as he looked over to Elizabeth, the secret safe in his gaze.  

Norrington drew a breath and softened his expression some at Wills apparent sincerity.  "I regret that it has to be this way, Mr. Turner.  I know how Sparrow assisted you both and I can understand any good feelings you have toward him, but the fact remains true:  the man is a pirate, and should he come within my sights at anytime, whether here or on the open sea, I must bring him to justice."  James studied Will for a moment, wondering what and spurned this rapid change in opinion in the lad.   He shook it off, however, partly due to the fact that his head was throbbing, and partly due to his desire to return home.  James stood up slowly and thanked Elizabeth.  She turned back to retrieve his hat and wig from the cart and handed the items to him, and gasped softly when he absently brushed his short, dark hair away from his forehead.

"James, what is that?" she demanded.

James was taken by surprise as he turned and looked at her.  "What is what, Miss Swann?" he asked with a slightly exhausted tone.

"Enough with formality.  My name is Elizabeth, which you should very well know by now," Elizabeth said as she flung down the cloth and took a couple quick steps toward him.  James nearly stepped backward as she reached up to deftly brush the hair away from the left side of his head, revealing the scar left from the gunshot wound only two weeks prior.  "That," she declared with a stern look on her face.

"Uh oh," said Will, poking fun at Norrington's predicament.  The smile quickly faded from his face when he realized the situation was not as funny as he had initially thought.  He crossed his arms and cleared his throat as he glanced down at the floor.

James sighed as he turned to look at Elizabeth.  "We were engaged with two pirate vessels weeks ago, and I regret that the sharpshooters do not enjoy my company as much as others…"

"You were shot in the head!?  James, you never told anyone about that," she said, somewhere between concern and disappointment.  The things Elizabeth always enjoyed about Norrington were his tales from his exploits at sea.  Her father always invited the young Captain to tea, and he would share his adventures.  She had grown up with them, and felt genuinely let down when she was not kept apprised of the current events in the area.

Norrington shook his head as he replaced the wig and hat.  Her response was eerily similar to Katherine's.  "It is of no consequence, Elizabeth.  Unfortunately I have not had the time to visit with you and your father lately, and I apologize.  But thank you for your concern."

"Well perhaps you would have time tomorrow for tea, Commodore," declared Elizabeth as she matched his expressionless demeanor.  "My father is having Mr. Meyerson and Miss Reynolds over, and I should be delighted if you attended as well.  Will and I shall be there, so feel free to bring your delightful sister if you see fit."

James looked at her as he folded his hands behind his back.  "I should be delighted to attend, Elizabeth," he said as he flashed a small smile.  He turned back to Will and nodded.  "Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Turner.  I shall see you both tomorrow afternoon."  With that, James followed Will out into the stables and retrieved the sleeping Darby from his stall.  Norrington refused Will's offer to accompany him home, hoping to save what little dignity he had left at that point.  The entire situation was embarrassing, and it all took place in Elizabeth's presence.  James slowly made his way home, only to be barraged by Katherine's questioning.  Having satisfied her as to his whereabouts and cause for his bloodied collar, he quickly ate and freshened up before turning in for the night.  Katherine watched after him as she pondered the coming day's events.  

"This should be interesting," she remarked to herself as she stood with arms crossed against the balustrade, thinking about an impending conversation with Elizabeth and perhaps some more conversation between James and Melissa.  A smile slowly crept across her features as she turned back to her room for the evening.


	22. The Matchmaker

The Matchmaker 

Katherine woke up the following morning with a start.  She paused for a moment as she glanced over to her clock and took note of the time.  _Bloody hell!_ she thought to herself as she sat up abruptly.  _It is nearly nine o'clock and no one woke me?_  _I am meeting Matthieu at 10!_  Katherine leapt out of bed and quickly summoned Margaret to assist her in getting dressed.  As soon as she deemed herself satisfactory, Katherine flew down the stairs and made her way toward the sitting room.

"Did anyone ever tell you _not_ to run in the house?" a sarcastic voice asked as she passed by an open door.  Katherine halted in mid step as gracefully turned and peered in the door.  There she found James seated officially behind his desk, a mass of papers strewn about the fine wooden desktop.  He rested his elbows on the desk and folded his hands as he allowed a sly grin to cross his face.  "Where is the fire?" he inquired.

Katherine drew a breath as she stood up to her full height.  "I am off to see Matthieu before our gathering at the Governor's this afternoon," she declared with a confident tone.  She smiled at her brother in an innocent manner before placing her hands behind her back.  Katherine then studied James's desk and frowned slightly.  "Do you always work on Saturdays?" she demanded, pointing at the various manifests sitting in front of the Commodore.

"I work until my duties have been accomplished, not a second before," James said coolly.  He flashed a smile before taking up his pen and returning to his paperwork.  "Are you visiting him at the Fort?" he asked without looking up.

Katherine leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms.  "Yes, actually.  We were going to go on a stroll, perhaps take lunch someplace before tea."

James looked up suspiciously.  "And maintain a strict sense of propriety?" he asked, his tone dead serious.  

Katherine sighed and had to refrain from rolling her eyes at her brother.  "James Norrington," she began sternly.  "Need I remind you that I am 22 years old, quite capable of considering my own actions, and - "

"And will act appropriately at all times," finished James decidedly.  His smile returned as he watched his sister's cheeks grow red.  James placed his pen back in its bottle as he rested his elbows back on the desk.  "But then again both you and Matthieu are respectable individuals and I'm sure you will both conduct yourselves accordingly.  Go…" James said as he returned to his work.  "You have a message on the table…"

Katherine watched as James absently waved his hand in the direction of the sitting room.  She then turned and made her way down the hall and turned into the bright space of the sitting room and gathered her note.  She smiled to herself as she read through it – Melissa had sent word to her that she would be the only one attending tea this afternoon from her household.  Unfortunately her uncle, Joshua Meyerson, was feeling ill and her younger brother Marcus was staying home to tend to him.  _Splendid_, Katherine thought as she turned on her heel and headed back toward her brother's office.  James had been lost in thought as he scribbled furiously on one of the documents, when he suddenly noticed Katherine standing directly in front of him.  He slowly drew a breath before looking up at her with a pleasant smile.

"I have a personal question to ask of you, dear brother," she started.  

"Oh no," James said as he placed his pen back on the desk and raked his fingers through his hair.

"I'm not asking you if you surrendered the Fort to the bloody Spanish, James!" clarified Katherine.  An expectant grin slowly invaded her expression.  "It is of no consequence, really.  I should simply like to know your thoughts on a subject, that is all."

"Of course you do," he sighed.

Katherine bit her lip, but could contain herself no longer.  "So what do you think of Miss Reynolds?" she blurted as he spread her arms out along the edge of the desk and stared her brother down.

"Katherine!" exclaimed James as he leaned back in his chair and looked up at her.  He was quite taken aback by her forward comments.  Katherine only leaned toward him, the grin on her face widening with every tense second.

"Well?  Do you fancy her or not?" she asked impatiently.

"That is absolutely non of your concern," asserted James, his tone cool and face expressionless.  That mask worked well enough to hide his thoughts from others, but not from Katherine.  She narrowed her eyes in displeasure as he rose to show her the door.  "Go now, I'm sure Gillette is waiting," he said softly.  "And if you do walk around the fort, mind the eastern side of the wall.   We're having a terrible time with some deterioration of the stone there."

Katherine turned to look him square on.  "Do you mean to tell me that my brother's affairs are none of my concern, James?" she asked softly.  Her expression softened some, but remained firm.  "You're right.  I shan't spend my time meddling with your affairs.  But," Katherine paused as she glanced down at the floor, then back up to James's eyes.  "Perhaps you would afford me the same courtesy."  She smiled pleasantly before turning and making her way to the door to meet the carriage outside, leaving James standing in his office doorway.  He stared after her for a moment as he pondered those last words of hers.

"Bloody hell," he muttered as he turned back to his desk.

Katherine and Matthieu had spent a pleasant few hours together as they casually strolled about Fort Charles and dodged the unrelenting Doctor Aiden Quinlan.  Katherine was actually thrilled to see the quirky little Irishman, but Gillette was less than pleased, mainly due to the fact that Quinlan fussed over him so.  

"Honestly, Aiden, I am feeling quite well today.  I think the fresh air is doing me good," insisted Matthieu as he attempted to shoo the surgeon away.  

"Aye, but ye shoulder needs a bit more time, lad.  Besides," Aiden paused as a sarcastic little grin crossed his mouth.  "Is it the fresh air, or that fine lady that be doin' ye so much good, Matthieu?"

"_Go away,_ Quinlan!" sighed Gillette through gritted teeth.  The surgeon then gathered his things and exited the room, chuckling down the length of the corridor.  Katherine laughed outright as she took Matthieu's arm and led him outside to the waiting carriage.  The carriage stopped momentarily at Norrington's estate to pick up James, before finally heading off to the Governor's mansion for afternoon tea.  Katherine had departed her plan for James and Melissa to Gillette, who thought it brilliant.  The two now sat opposite the Commodore and attempted to hide their impending laughter.  James stared at them before letting out a weary sigh. 

"What are you two grinning at?" he demanded.  Matthieu simply looked down and Katherine shook her head.  James rolled his eyes and returned his gaze out the window.

"Nothing at all, sir," Gillette finally stammered, having gained his composure.  "I…just told Katherine something today that I had heard from Mr. Murtogg.  Completely useless but charmingly funny," he said, hoping to change the subject and quell his superior's suspicion.  

"If it is that blasted Giggle Loop nonsense, I want to hear nothing of it, Matthieu," James declared.  

Gillette snapped his head up to look at Norrington.  "You've _heard_ about it then?" he asked curiously.

"Private Murtogg was laughing uncontrollably in the middle of a bloody interrogation, so I questioned him on it.  He blamed it on the Giggle Loop.  So, when I inquired after that, he simply stated that I was 'not ready' for the Giggle Loop, and so I thankfully left it at that," stated James as he began to shake his head.  "He then went on about puppies trapped in carriages, or something completely incoherent like that.  That man never ceases to amaze me."  Gillette nodded as Katherine looked on.  Within moments the carriage came to a stop in front of the Governor's mansion.  

Governor Swann enthusiastically greeted his latest guests with his usual generous flair.  After exchanging pleasantries, Governor Swann, Elizabeth, Melissa Reynolds, Katherine, Matthieu, and James finally sat down for tea and began to catch up on the Port Royale gossip.  First topic, of course, was James's head.

"How are you feeling this afternoon, Commodore?" Elizabeth asked innocently as she sipped her tea.

James looked over to her and paused a moment before responding.  "Quite well, actually.  Thank you for inquiring, Miss Swann."  Gillette seemed to pick up on the awkwardness as he glanced over to James.

"One would think that you were attacked or some damn thing," Matthieu said as he tried to suppress his amusement.  His smile faded as he looked about the room and noticed the solemn expressions.  "You didn't, did you?"  Gillette's hard gaze rested solely on Norrington now, who was fingering his teacup.  "You did…"

Elizabeth dutifully filled the group in on the previous night's events with the help of her father.  Though he was not there, Weatherby Swann soaked up stories like a dry sponge and honestly enjoyed regurgitating the information.  James turned and made to defend himself when Gillette took action.  Matthieu placed his cup down before his arms started going in all different directions during his tirade.  "You were attacked in the street and didn't tell me?!  Good _God_ man, you could have been seriously injured.  What were you thinking riding through town alone at that time of night?  You are not still concussed from the stairs incident, are you?  I would say you are!  Where's Quinlan…"  

"What stairs?" demanded Elizabeth.

"A bullet grazed his scalp two weeks ago during the attack on the _Dauntless_ and sent him crashing down a flight of stairs," explained Gillette.

"You never told me about the stairs!" Elizabeth turned with great disappointment to James, who merely sighed as he leaned forward to rub his forehead.

Gillette's rant continued for what seemed like eternity, throughout which James sat stock-still and stared at his teacup, with the occasional glance up to Elizabeth, Katherine, and Melissa, who seemed to be quite amused at the situation.  James allowed a small grin to cross his face as he took in her expression and watched her as she chuckled at Matthieu's flailing tirade.  Eventually the room grew quiet and James casually looked over his shoulder to his second.  "Are you quite finished, Gillette?" he asked.  Matthieu nodded, his cheeks still flushed.

"Am I correct in assuming you're French, Lievtenant?" inquired Elizabeth through an amused smile.  "And how are those mermaids of yours?"

"Absolument," Gillette declared with all the civility he could muster.  His aversion of Elizabeth was well known to both James and Katherine.  "And I am sure you will find the mermaids to be in excellent spirits, Miss Swann."

Melissa brushed a stray blonde hair from her face before she spoke up.  "Mermaids?  Surely we are not writing children's stories now, are we?" she teased as she glanced over to Katherine.  The two friends immediately broke out in smiles.  

"No, of course not Miss Reynolds," James said.  He, too, was nearly smiling at her remark.  "I am afraid it has to do with an incident some time ago aboard the _Dauntless_ regarding a pirate hunt we happened to be involved in," he declared, shooting a warning glance to both Elizabeth and Gillette.  The last thing James desired was another insightful look into the _Black Pearl_ incident and the intricacies of curses, compliments of Elizabeth Swann and Lievtenant Matthieu Gillette.  It was too late for that, however.  

"I told you they couldn't be killed," said Elizabeth triumphantly.

Gillette's face suddenly became a fine shade of red for the second time during the tea session.  "And was I supposed to _believe_ you?"

"I was threatened by them, Lievtenant!  I should think that I would know!" asserted Elizabeth as she held up her left hand.

"You were frantically screaming and making no sense!  Of course I was not going to believe you!  And masochists are…"

"Lievtenant!" interrupted Norrington with a commanding tone.

"Never mind, Miss Swann," said Gillette as he finally regained some vague sense of propriety.  Matthieu merely sat back and folded his hands in his lap in an obvious attempt to hold his tongue.  Katherine leaned over and gently took his left arm.   

James straightened up and looked across the table to Elizabeth and the Governor.  "I apologize to you both," he began.  James was promptly cut off by a wave of the Governor's hand.

"No need to apologize, James.  I daresay this is one of the more exciting afternoon gatherings I've had in quite some time," Weatherby said with his usual, kind air.  "Though I am afraid our subject matter is confusing Miss Reynolds over there."  The Governor smirked some as he glanced down toward Melissa.

"Quite!" she said.  "Though I noticed Katherine looks vaguely lost as well, so at least I shan't sink alone."  The group chuckled over Melissa's quiet candor.  Eventually the subject changed from undead skeleton pirates – or hints of them anyway – to Melissa's past and hopeful future.  She had moved to Portsmouth, England, three years ago upon the death of her dear father, and in doing so left behind all of her close acquaintances in London.  Melissa admitted to being the shy one, but at the same time had little trouble recalling her school day exploits with Katherine.

"I did not _burn_ it.  It was just a bit overdone, that is all," insisted Katherine.

"It was blackened the entire way through," Melissa said with a smirk.

"Well, I heard some people enjoy them that way," Katherine stated desperately.

"No one likes their tarts _black_, Katherine!" Melissa asserted before laughing.  She slowly regained her composure and turned to James.  "Is it safe to assume that she does not do any cooking, Commodore?"  James chuckled and quickly explained that no, Katherine most certainly did not go near the kitchen.

"I try to limit my talents to where they are useful," Katherine said and she mustered up her remaining dignity.  

"And far away from the kitchen?" teased James.

"Exactly," Katherine said as she took a sip of her tea.  

The conversation continued between the six individuals, touching on everything from the repairs aboard the _Dauntless _and _Hambleton_, to that magnificent grey troublemaker known as Darby, to the gossipmonger of Port Royale herself, Lady Anderton, and her upcoming ball.  Throughout it all James found himself transfixed on Melissa.  Quite often she glanced over to him and gave him a smile.  She was captivating, but not in the same way Katherine was.  Melissa seemed much more subtle in her manner.  Either way, James found himself nearly enamored with her, though he was hesitant to admit it.

"Commodore…_James!"_

Elizabeth's voice snapped Norrington back to attention like he did to most Marines.  He glanced over to his right at Elizabeth, trying to hide his growing embarrassment.  She looked at him expectantly before realizing he had completely missed what she had just said.  Smiling slightly, Elizabeth repeated herself.  "I was just asking if you thought the battlements was a good place to hold the wedding."

James paused in thought before responding.  "Oh, well, I suppose that would depend on the size of the reception.  I regret there is not a great deal of space up there on the actual…battlements.  Perhaps within the actual courtyard itself?"

"Actually, that was what we were thinking," Elizabeth said.  "Are you alright?" she asked, a slight chuckle in her voice.

James smiled.  He had missed the entire conversation because he was too busy staring stupidly at Melissa.  "Quite, thank you Miss Swann.  I must have…drifted off," he said in a valiant attempt to cover his blunder.  However, a quick glance sideways to the skeptical faces of Katherine and Gillette told him that they knew the real reason for his mental absence.  Katherine was now beaming ridiculously from ear to ear, whilst Gillette sat there with a triumphant smirk on his face.

"Trailed off indeed," Matthieu jested.  "You looked like a barracuda surrounded by shiny objects."  The group had a quick laugh over Gillette's comment.  James merely flashed a smile and looked down to study his cup.  _Splendid…My sister, the matchmaker, and he's not helping_, Norrington thought to himself.


	23. I Will

I Will 

The sun shone brightly in the crystal blue sky, and smiled down on the affair with all the satisfaction of a proud father.  All around, dignified members of Port Royale society turned out in their best and donned happy expressions.  A soft sea breeze blew in and caressed his cheek.  This was the day Commodore James Norrington had been living for.  He nervously ran a hand down the lapels of his dress uniform as he glanced about the crowd.  James smiled expectantly at Katherine before his eyes became transfixed on the glorious sight coming down the aisle toward him.  Her gown illuminated the surrounding air and lit up her beautiful face like nothing else could.  She seemed to float effortlessly toward him on the arm of her distinguished father, and within moments found herself in the hands of James Norrington.  Her touch was soft and delicate; so unsure yet positively composed.  James relished the feeling of her skin to his as he turned his attention to the chaplain.

"James Norrington, will you take this woman in holy matrimony, to have and to hold through illness and in health, until death do you part?"

The Commodore had to draw a slow breath in order to prevent his heart from beating out of his chest.  He smiled as he lovingly glanced down toward her.  "I will."

The chaplain then turned to the fine woman at James's side.  "Elizabeth Swann, do you take this man in holy matrimony, to have and to hold through illness and in health, until death do you part?"

Elizabeth looked up at James, her expression cold and detached.  Tears welled in her eyes, but they were not the tears of joy.  When she spoke, her voice resounded of quiet despair and disappointment.  "I will…"

James woke with a start.  He touched the sweat that had accumulated on his brow before glancing over to the clock in the corner of his room.  It was three o'clock in the morning of Elizabeth Swann and Will Turner's wedding.   James sighed and flung himself back on the pillows as he covered his face with his hands.  This was the day he had been waiting expectantly for years; the trouble was it was nothing like he had dreamed.  He thought about how Elizabeth had looked at him in his last reverie and shut his eyes against it.  _It would have been a bloody lie.  She found happiness elsewhere,_ James thought to himself as he tried to reason.  He had done the right thing in stepping aside and allowing Elizabeth and Will to follow their hearts, even though they were stepping on his.  He kept his dignity through it all, partly due to his actions, and partly due to the mask he wore.  Deep inside, the man did not want to be alone.  James lay there, sprawled out in bed, as he pondered his predicament.  Elizabeth was lost to him.  The one ambition in his life that had nothing to do with promotion and success was thrown to the wind.  And suddenly, promotion and success seemed rather unimportant as well.  No matter what Elizabeth thought, no matter what the entire Port Royale gentry thought, James loved Elizabeth deeply.  He loved her enough to see that she desired happiness with another man, and loved her enough to let her go.  But even though it was not his fault, James could not help but wonder what he had done wrong.  He probably would have admitted defeat then and there if he had not remembered another endearing character in his life.

Melissa Reynolds quickly filled the void in Norrington's heart.  The month or so they had known each other had been somewhat awkward at first.  Between the two of them, there was enough shyness to effectively disable the _Dauntless_.  James, still disappointed with himself over Elizabeth's decision, was unsure how to go about becoming acquainted with the young lady.  Melissa, shy by nature, was quite put out with his seemingly expressionless demeanor.  It took a great bit of coaxing from Katherine to push Melissa in the right direction.  She seemed to see something in the Commodore after that embarrassing afternoon at the Governor's that struck her as utterly charming.  Melissa became a regular guest at the Norrington estate and quickly picked up on the difference in the Commodore between public functions, and time spent with his sister.  She found him to be quite a bit of fun when relaxed and felt he could be himself.  James, too, had taken notice of the two sides of Melissa.  Reserved in public, yet distinctly open and amusing when surrounded by friends.  The similarities were remarkable.

James allowed himself to smile some as his hands fell back down on the sheets.  _Melissa Reynolds…charming young lady_, he thought to himself.  She was probably the one real thing that allowed him to smile on a day such as this.  Even Katherine's unrelenting coaxing and heartfelt discussions could not keep him going.  Drowning himself in his duties was another popular option for escape, but leave it to trusty Lievtenant Gillette quickly call him on that as well.  Eventually James had to face the simple facts:  he was not meant for Elizabeth, no matter what he did or how he felt.  As painful as that was to accept, he did eventually accept it.  However, it was difficult to forget one's previous emotions when the love of one's life is married off to another.  James sighed once more before turning over and closing his eyes, hoping to get some more rest before the day's emotional events.

A sharp knock upon his door woke Norrington up hours later.  "James Norrington!  You had better be decent because I'm coming in," declared the distinct voice of his sister.  James sighed before pulling the sheets up about his chest and continuing to lay there.  Katherine burst in only seconds later.  "It is seven o'clock, and I had Mr. Decker prepare breakfast.  He was unsure of what you wanted…what are you still doing in bed?" she declared as she placed her hands on her hips.

James picked himself up off the pillows and glanced at her.  "Negotiating peace treaties," he said unemotionally.  He paused before being more frank.  "Sleeping, Katherine, I was sleeping just now."

"So I see," Katherine said as she crossed her arms.  "Well would you like to get up, Commodore?  We have to be at the Fort for 11, and breakfast is nearly prepared."

James and Katherine arrived at Fort Charles just before 11 o'clock and found the courtyard impressively decorated with an array of flowers and various other adornments.  The day was bright and pleasant, much like the dream James had in the early hours of the morning.  Upon their arrival, Katherine latched herself on to Gillette's arm with full intention of remaining there most of the day, and James made nice to the members of Port Royale society.  He tried not to acknowledge the obvious stares and whispers occurring behind him.  There was not a gossipmonger at the Fort that did not note how well the Commodore seemed to be handling himself.  The ladies smiled pleasantly and fanned themselves as he glanced over at them, then turned away.  _Twits_, James thought to himself.  He pitied their insecurities and cursed their shallowness.  He had the sudden need to lock himself away in his office, but decided against it after realizing the likely rumors that would generate.  He continued to smile and exchange pleasantries like the good public official instead.

Soon enough, Melissa arrived with her uncle in tow.  She eagerly greeted James.  "Commodore!  How good it is to see you," she said as she smiled and offered her hand.  James dually took it and kissed it with great care.  "Always the gentleman," Melissa declared as she shook her head and continued to smile.

"Now that sounds quite similar to something my dear sister would say," James teased.  

"It seems as if you have discovered our conniving little plans," joked Melissa as she raised her eyebrows.  Mr. Meyerson stepped up next and graciously shook James's hand.

"Commodore Norrington, my good man.  Wonderful day, is it not?" the stout little man asked as he gazed about the courtyard.

James nodded as he folded his hands behind his back.  "Quite.  Of course, having said that, I daresay the skies will undoubtedly open up and ruin it all."  The trio quickly shared some laughter before resigning themselves once more to greeting other people.  Within the hour, the guests took their seats and the ceremony began.  Katherine, Gillette, James, Melissa, and Mr. Meyerson all sat together, only one row back from the action.  Will Turner was well turned out in a charming, yet simple suit.  He waited anxiously on the stone steps, shifting nervously from one foot to another.  He would catch himself from time to time and stand still for a few moments, before starting the process all over again.  James empathized with him, having dreamed about being in Will's position.  He quickly shook it off and reprimanded himself. 

It was right then that Elizabeth came into view.  She glided down the aisle on the arm of her father, her face beaming with joy and excitement.  James smiled at the sight.  His eyes were fixed on the couple at the altar.  Throughout the ceremony, Will and Elizabeth did not lift their gaze from each other.  They were locked each other's faces, as if breaking that gaze would rip them apart and send them crashing into the sea.  Melissa looked away and over to James and noticed his placid expression.  Katherine had told her all she knew about the events of months past between Will, Elizabeth, and James.  Gillette had dutifully departed all the information to his new companion, and Katherine in turn relayed it to Melissa once Gillette had gone back to active duty and the two young ladies spent most of their time in each other's company.  _How difficult this must be for him_, Melissa thought as she studied the Commodore.  

"I will."  Turner's words seemed to snap James back to attention.  The moment he had been avoiding for the past four months was finally about to slap him in the face.  He drew a breath as the chaplain continued.

"Elizabeth Swann, do you take this man in holy matrimony, to have and to hold through illness and in health, until death do you part?"

Elizabeth looked up to Will with ecstasy as a broad smile crossed her face.  "I will."  

James closed his eyes and swallowed as she said those words.  The emotional knife he thought he had buried had only found its way back into his heart.  He immediately looked back up so as not to draw unwanted attention to himself, though it was too late for that.  He felt a pair of eyes upon him, but awkwardly enough, they were not Katherine's.  James glanced to his left and found Melissa staring intently at him, emotional tears welling in her eyes.  She smiled as he turned to her and quickly wiped her eyes.  Melissa chuckled, slightly embarrassed, before pointing with her handkerchief up to the altar, indicating to the Commodore the reason for her tears.  James returned her soft smile before eventually returning his attention back to the newlyweds before him.  Moments later the crowd erupted with applause and the Turners retreated back down the aisle.


	24. Tally Ho

Tally Ho

"One should think that the rogues would have enough sense to stay away from Kingston," sneered Gillette, as he stood off to Norrington's left. The two officers stood on the quarterdeck of the HMS _Dauntless_ and gazed out onto the crystal blue ocean. They were in pursuit of a renegade sloop that had attacked a merchant brig just off the coast of the bustling Kingston harbor. 

James nodded as he stood fast with his hands folded behind his back. "Of course. But then again, one should hope that they would have had the sense to obey the law as well. I daresay they have earned the punishment they are about to receive."

Gillette glanced over his shoulder and smirked. "Tally ho, sir?" 

The Commodore looked to his Lievtenant and flashed a small smile. "Tally ho, Lievtenant," he said. Norrington then turned and started down the stairs to inspect the weather deck. "Trim the topsails, gentlemen, we're before the wind now." He eventually made his way up to the forecastle where Gillette joined him only moments later. The Lievtenant stood back a moment and studied his friend and commanding officer. James was so confident and sure while shipboard. His actions were purposeful and carefully planned, his intentions well defined. The Commodore made no secret of the fact that he had dedicated his life to ridding the waters of pirate activity, and while on ship his focus was unmistakable. It was for this reason why the man had garnered so much success and earned himself the reputation as the Pirate Hunter. Norrington was often considered the finest mariner His Majesty's Navy had to offer in the Caribbean, and he had never let a pirate out of his grasp. Save for once. 

"If the _Black Pearl_ was not the last real pirate threat in the Caribbean, than Hunter certainly seemed to be," Norrington said thoughtfully. His words snapped Gillette out of his musing. "It's been dreadfully quiet in these waters recently. No activity whatsoever."

Gillette nodded as he stepped up to Norrington's left. "That it has, sir. I daresay you gave them a right good scare after bringing in Hunter. The man was out for your head, you know. All that planning to flush Commodore Norrington out, and all it earned him was two crippled vessels and a stretched neck," he said as he glanced over to James, who simply continued to stare out to sea.

"Well he made a horrible mistake in underestimating the Port Royale fleet, Gillette," Norrington declared as he glanced to his second. His gaze returned to the open ocean ahead. "Hunter was a bumbling fool, much like the incompetent we are about to overtake. It will take more than a brig and a wreck of a frigate to take me."

Gillette chuckled under his breath. "Or one flight of stairs," he said, his stare resting solidly on the water. A small smirk pulled at the sides of his mouth as he thought about his jest.

Norrington turned quickly to face Gillette in his own defense. "You _do_ realize I was shot in the head," he asserted with impatience. James waved his hand at Matthieu before turning to look back out to sea. "I don't go poking fun at your previous condition…"

The Lievtenant shook his head as his defiant smile grew. "It was _most_ ungraceful of you sir."

"Enough with the stairs, Matthieu!" Norrington demanded as he stared squarely at Gillette, who only folded his hands behind his back and tried to contain his laughter. James sighed and shook his head. "Why did I ever promote you? All you do is give me grief."

Matthieu smiled and placed a reassuring hand on James's left shoulder. "Because you are wise beyond your years, my friend," he declared as the two officers turned and started aft, back toward Norrington's cabin. They had not gotten halfway across the weather deck when the attention of all the hands aboard the _Dauntless_ turned to the larboard side of the ship. 

"Commodore! Fire to the larboard side, sir!" yelled one of the sailors from aloft in the fighting top. Norrington turned and quickly made his way to the bulkhead, followed by all hands. They peered out on to the fiery scene perhaps a mile away.

"Quartermaster! Come round to port!" commanded Norrington as he headed toward the quarterdeck for a better view. "Ready the boats for launch and prepare to take on survivors. Alert the surgeon." The Commodore ascended the stairs and spread his arms along the rail as he looked down on the scene unfolding before him. All hands were busy about their duties as they swung out the boats and assembled on deck. The scene was desperate – the wooden hull of a former merchant schooner lay in scattered, flaming ruins. Debris was strewn about the water and bobbed slowly in the calm waves. Norrington clenched his jaw before making his way back down the stairs and across the deck. "Take in sail! Launch the boats…"

Several boats were launched to search the waters, but no survivors were found. The schooner was apparently carrying a load of sugar cane, by the looks of the surviving crates. The Commodore shook his head as he surveyed the scene. No clues were recovered, but Norrington had a reasonable explanation for the unfortunate occurrence. Once all hands were back aboard he gave his orders. "Set top sails and secure the boats. Jackets off the guns and prepare for a hunt, gentleman," he commanded with his usual, emotionless tone. He immediately signaled for Lievtenant Gillette to join him at the helm. "How big did the vessel appear to be?" Norrington inquired of his trusted second.

Gillette paused in consideration as he glanced out to the remaining flaming wreckage. "She appeared to be a small schooner, Commodore. Very little wreckage and debris. I should say that she was set afire."

The Commodore nodded as he leaned forward and grasped the railing. "The aggressors cannot be far. If the rogue sloop was responsible, I should be surprised if they got away with little damage. I suspect they would be sailing east toward that vile pit of Tortuga, so let us give chase. Prepare the men for a gun fight." With that, Norrington descended the stairs and retreated to his cabin for a moment or two of quiet. He always found it reassuring to take a moment for himself and clear his head. Meanwhile, the crew of the HMS _Dauntless_ hoisted the main and topsails on the foremast, mainmast, and mizzenmast of the enormous vessel. She glided forward easily, her bowsprit pointing proudly toward her destination.

James was standing at the very aft of his cabin, staring out the expansive windows lining the stern of the _Dauntless_, when he heard a knock on his door. He paused thoughtfully before glancing over his shoulder. "Enter," he said as he turned his attention back out the window. Gillette approached took off his cap, placing it neatly under his arm.

"Whatever is out there must be utterly fascinating," Gillette declared after a moment of shared silence between the two. When Norrington did not answer, he continued. "What has gotten into you? You've been moping about the Fort recently and it appears that your attitude has not much improved when in private."

James turned and folded his hands behind his back as he looked at Matthieu. "What is the situation with the sloop, Lievtenant? Any signs of her yet?" he asked with no hint of emotion in his tone.

Gillette sighed as he watched his commander move and sit behind his desk. "None as of yet, sir," he said, matching Norrington's tone. "We're making excellent time, so I shouldn't believe they would be far off if we're following the appropriate course. So…" Gillette paused as he slowly made his way out in front of the Commodore's desk. "Returning to our previous topic, James."

Norrington broke his concentrated stare and glanced over to Gillette, who was smirking to himself. "I appreciate your concern, but this is not the time, nor the place, Lievtenant," he declared. Though the Commodore's words were stern, Gillette did not pay them much mind. He studied his commander from across the desk and shook his head.

"I understand completely. But if I may speak freely for one moment, sir," Gillette insisted. "She's gone, James. Let her go."

James furrowed his brow in confusion, though he had a reasonable idea of where Matthieu was taking the discussion. "Who's gone?"

Gillette shifted in his seat. "Elizabeth. Lord knows since the wedding you've been sullen and out of sorts. Even shipboard I've noticed a slight change in you. Best to just let her go, James. She was not right for you, but that is no fault of yours. She was simply too blind to see. And too stupid to be grateful."

James leaned slightly forward and placed his hands on the desk. "That is quite enough, Matthieu."

"I'm not finished. Damn it, James, you risked your life and the lives of all your men looking out for that girl's safety, not to mention that damned Turner, and I have yet to hear any appreciation or gratitude from her. Granted, her father has been more than thankful, but Mrs. Turner has not yet sought you out to thank you for your involvement. You could have been slain just as easily as I or the 70 or so that we lost that night. I would have expected her to personally sign each of those letters that you wrote to the families of those marines and sailors, but you did not force the issue. So if she cannot see past the title enough to even come and thank you for your sacrifice, than I cannot possibly fathom how she would be worthy of your dedication." Gillette sat back in his seat drew a calming breath.

James also leaned back in his chair and stared at Matthieu as he absently ran his fingers over the top of the desk. He went to say something, but merely nodded in recognition of Matthieu's words. "I assure you this has nothing to do with Mrs. Turner's marriage, Matthieu. I am simply missing the sea, that is all. With Martin finally cooperating and the recent inactivity, I have not had the need to sail, and so I drown in paperwork instead. Hardly the sort of lifestyle I am used to," he said as his words trailed off. Indeed, Norrington was a sailor in every respect, and his direct involvement with patrols had diminished with his duties as Commodore. The change in focus from ship captain to Fort commander was drastic to say the least.

Moments later one of the midshipmen entered and declared that sails had been spotted just to the northeast.

Gillette studied Norrington before feeling satisfied with the response. "Well then, you shan't feel melancholy much longer," he said as a smirk slowly invaded his expression. "Though I must say, I do have a good solution to any remaining despondent thoughts you may still have about losing Elizabeth."

James turned after gathering his hat and looked at Gillette curiously. The Lievtenant cleared his throat and smiled. "Miss Reynolds fancies you, she's made no secret of it to Katherine and myself. I think you should pursue her," Gillette declared.

"Good God, not you too!" James huffed as he walked toward the door. 

The two officers made their way out of the cabin and up to the _Dauntless's_ helm. Of to the port quarter were small, white sails. Norrington deftly withdrew his spyglass and studied the vessel. "She appears to be a small sloop or schooner, but she's most certainly limping along. Twenty degrees to larboard, Quartermaster," ordered the Commodore. He pocketed the looking glass and looked out on deck to the Sailing Master. "Trim the canvas, Mr. Epson, I want to carry every sail until we're on top of this rogue. Beat to quarters!" The crew of the _Dauntless_ scrambled and manned their posts with strict efficiency. Norrington turned to Gillette. "Hoist the battle colors, Mr. Gillette. We'll make damned sure these idiots know who we are. Fire a warning shot across their bow once we get within range for the long nines." The Lievtenant smiled and carried out his orders.

It was not long until the powerful ship overtook the diminished threat. Grossly out manned and out gunned by nearly 90, the pronounced pirates ran up their white flag and surrendered without so much as a pistol shot. The crew of the sunken merchant vessel was accounted for and the criminals dually thrown in the brig to enjoy their short trip back to Port Royale to meet their fate.

"Well that was a waste of a first rate," commented Gillette once the _Dauntless_ was under sail once more.  "Those were, without doubt, the _worst_ pirates I have ever seen."

Norrington smirked some as he looked out from the quarterdeck.  "I daresay Martin would have been able to take care of it."  James's expression straightened as he thought about what he had said, and suddenly all was quiet.  He and Gillette looked at each other and said in unison, "_Navigator_..."

"Knowing Martin, he probably would have dropped anchor in Kingston and gone whoring or whatever it is he does to satisify his overgrown self," Gillette remarked with a biting tone.

Norrington folded his hands once more behind his back and nodded.  "Yes, I suspect sending you or Pearce out with the _Navigator_ would have been a far more efficient use of resources."

"And then you could have stayed buried under a hoard of paperwork and attended the Anderton's tea this afternoon."  James rolled his eyes at Matthieu's comment.  "Charming young lady, Sophie is.  Has the personality of a melon.  You know, you may still be able to make it.  At the very least you should send them a note apologizing for your absense and offer to take tea with them tomorrow," Gillette teased as he subtly nudged the Commodore with his elbow.

"Oh, get a hobby Gillette!" demanded Norrington as he headed down toward his cabin, leaving Gillette smiling broadly on the quarterdeck of the HMS _Dauntless_.


	25. Crimes of the Heart

Crimes of the Heart 

Darby greeted Katherine with a soft nicker when she entered the barn.  "Good morning, sir," she said as she reached for the horse's treat.  Soft, grey lips gently held her hostage until she provided them with the succulent offering of apple.  Katherine chuckled as the gelding devoured the gift and searched her for more.  "My brother would be quite disappointed to see how I spoil you."  She stroked Darby's intelligent head for a moment before two grooms entered and asked if they could be of any assistance.  She quickly instructed them to saddle Darby and her mount, as Melissa was to be joining her for a morning ride.

Katherine returned to the house to change into her riding habit.  She donned the burgundy material and studied herself in the mirror for a moment before turning to her dresser and gingerly opening the top drawer.  She carefully removed a fine gold necklace and placed it about her neck.  Finally satisfied with her appearance, she returned to the parlor, only to have Mr. Decker approach minutes later and inform her that Miss Reynolds had arrived.  Katherine gathered her gloves and crop before making her way into the corridor.  "Melissa!  How good it is to see you," she declared as she greeted her dear friend.  "How is your uncle faring?"

Melissa's wide grin softened some.  "You know him, Katherine.  He feels it is necessary to worry about everything and nothing all at once, and if he ever sat still for more than one second I think I shall fall over in amazement!"  The young women shared in a laugh before Melissa took note of Katherine's gold necklace.  She paused momentarily as she studied the fine gold chain and the small figure of an angel from the front.  "That is a beautiful necklace, Katherine.  It seems somewhat familiar," Melissa noted on the way to the stables.  

Katherine turned and absently fingered the necklace.  "Oh this, I've had it for a great deal of time.  Father gave it to me when I was eight years old.  I was his 'angel' back then, I'm not so sure of it now," she said through a slight chuckle.

They rounded the corner and found the two mounts ready and waiting.  Melissa paused for a moment at the sight of the big grey nickering at her.  She shot Katherine a questioning yet sarcastic glance before softening her voice and addressing the animal.  "Darby my good man, is Aunt Katherine taking you out for a ride?  Gallivanting perhaps?"

"He especially likes to gallivant," Katherine noted with a smile.  "He has not been out all week, and James has been gone since yesterday with the _Dauntless_, so I did not see any problem with having him go."  She pointed over to the chestnut mare.  "I had Mango saddled for you; I'm sure you'll find her quite agreeable." 

Melissa had to keep her jaw from dropping as she pulled on her gloves.  "Mango?  Really, Katherine, you find the strangest names for these animals…."

"I could not help it!  James called her 'Luna,' and I simply could not allow that to continue."

"Luna is a far better name than Mango, Katherine," Melissa chuckled.  Katherine merely sighed as the two mounted and headed off toward bluff at a brisk trot.  They rode along the back road and studied the serene fields to the west.  Darby eventually provided his own amusement as he stopped suddenly to quell his perpetual hunger, nearly sending Katherine head first into the grass.  Melissa nearly fell off because of her uncontrollable laughter.  Eventually the two reined their mounts to a halt and took in the brilliant scene overlooking the bay.  They were silent for a moment before Miss Reynolds spoke up.

"How is Matthieu, Katherine?"

"Making up for lost time, I'm afraid," Katherine lamented as she gazed out to sea.  "He's been dreadfully busy at the Fort of late, but he was kind enough to treat me to dinner last night, much to James's chagrin."

Melissa shook her head.  "He _still_ does not approve?  My goodness, I shall have to speak with him."

"If you wish to have any chance with him, I advise that you not do that!" Katherine warned through her growing smile.  "He approves, he just does not wish to admit it.  Probably because of that superior officer complex of his.  I can understand why the whole situation is awkward for him – those two have known each other for years.  James knows we love each other and he'll come around eventually.  Besides, Matthieu is as gentle as a kitten."

"With very sharp teeth!" Melissa jested.  They laughed for a moment as the conversation turned to the Governor's last dinner, held only nights before.  "James is utterly impossible to talk to at such events," Melissa noted.  "Governor Swann is practically attached to his right side, and when he isn't detained and discussing Naval matters, there is a small herd of eligible ladies hovering about.  He glanced over them to me several times with this pleading look about him.  It had 'Save me from these twits' written all over it!"

"That is exactly why you should take him for yourself," Katherine suggested.  She noted Melissa's blush and decided to offer a bit of advice.  "The one thing you must understand about James, Melissa, is that he has two sides to him.  They are completely separate from each other, like oil and water.  There is Commodore Norrington, who is present in official capacity at public functions and while on duty.  He is proper at all times, holds the law in the highest regard, is completely immersed in military courtesy and code, and hardly ever thinks about himself.  Then there is James Norrington, my brother, who has a sharp tongue, dry sense of humor, is fun to be with, and hardly ever thinks about himself.  So one can spend a great deal of time trying to get underneath the uniform, so to speak, to understand what he's thinking."

Melissa paused for a moment as she studied Katherine.  "What is it that you are suggesting, Katherine?" she asked curiously.

Katherine straightened slightly and gave a smile.  "Merely that appearances can be deceiving," she began.  "James very much has this military complex that won't allow him to allude to his emotions.  Stone cold and composed on the outside, but that is not necessarily how he is on the inside.  He wears the mask quite well."

"_Exactly_, Katherine…"

"He may be in love with you, but have a hard time letting on," Katherine declared.  Melissa only smiled and nodded in acknowledgement.  With Katherine's help, she was beginning to see beyond the Commodore's façade.  He was always a gentleman to her, and indeed the two had shared some very enjoyable moments together when not barraged by sailors or meddlesome members of Port Royale society looking for something to gossip about.  Melissa knew that she had a great deal in common with the Commodore – they were both avid readers of Shakespeare, a topic that had provided for several hours of intense discussion.  Perhaps the most interesting similarity was not in their interests, but in their personalities.  Melissa was intrigued when she noticed the two distinct sides of the Commodore, for she herself had separate attitudes in and out of the public eye.  She also took it upon herself to look out for the welfare of her younger brother, Marcus, and she felt a great deal of responsibility toward him, much like the Commodore must feel for Katherine.  But Melissa knew the Commodore quite well by now – she was more interested in becoming acquainted with James Norrington.

Katherine turned away from Melissa as the silence between them grew.  She knew deep in her heart that James and Melissa were good for each other, if they could both get around to admitting it.  _James will be even more slow and cautious approaching this now because of what happened with Miss Swann_, she thought.  She never thought of her brother to lack confidence in anything, but when it came to affairs of the heart, he had little, and thanks to the events of several months before, he most likely had even less.

"This view is utterly stunning, despite the oncoming cloud cover," Melissa said suddenly as she gazed out to sea and studied the scenic bay.

Katherine snapped out of her trance and smiled softly as she acknowledged Melissa.  "It is.  I hope to paint it soon, only I shall have to leave out the grey skies."

The two ladies sighed before gathering their reins and returning to Norrington's estate.  Melissa dismounted and waited for Katherine to join her by her carriage.  "I shall take what you said into consideration," she declared.  She studied Katherine's kind expression and emerald eyes for a moment.  Something was making Melissa very uneasy, but she could not quite say what.  She shifted nervously and decided to throw discretion to the wind.  "My affection for James is growing, you know," she began softly.  "I hope beyond all hope that you shan't become protective of him should I say I love him!"

Katherine broke into a bright grin.  "I should not have it any other way!"  With that, she bid Melissa a good day and returned to the house.  Melissa watched after her for a moment before climbing into her carriage.  Saying that to her confidant made her feel at ease, and for some peculiar reason, at peace.  

It had not been more than a half hour before Mr. Decker found Katherine and informed her that a visitor had arrived.  Mrs. Elizabeth Turner waited patiently in the parlor as Katherine gathered herself to speak to her unexpected guest.  She entered the room and put on a pleasant expression.  "Mrs. Turner, what a pleasure to see you," she greeted.

Elizabeth turned from the painting she was studying.  "Miss Norrington, I apologize for my coming by without any warning.  I actually came to speak to the Commodore, but Mr. Decker was kind enough to inform me he has not yet returned."

"No, I regret that he is still off with the _Dauntless_.  They departed yesterday for a patrol to Kingston.  I imagine that he should return quite soon.  Unless something went wrong of course," Katherine noted.

Elizabeth shook her head as she placed a hand on the nearest chair.  "I hope that is not the case."  

"Is there anything I may do for you, Mrs. Turner?" Katherine inquired after a moment of awkward silence befell them.

"Please, call me Elizabeth.  Thank you for offering, but no, I do not think you can help me.  I only wished to thank the Commodore for something that is all.  I suppose I shall have to return."

_Thank him_? Katherine thought.  Elizabeth's words caught her curiosity.  _Whatever would she want to thank James for?  Laying his life on the line for her?  Now I shall have to hear what she says!_  Katherine took a step toward Elizabeth and smiled as she waved her hand toward the garden.  "Perhaps you would like to walk with me, Elizabeth.  I doubt James will be much longer, and it seems that I have not had the time to personally congratulate you on your wedding to Mr. Turner."

Elizabeth politely accepted and followed Katherine out into the expansive garden.  The skies had now clouded over completely and subsequently dulled the brilliant colors that normally shone brightly like the Caribbean sun.  The surroundings only reflected the growing, tense atmosphere between the two ladies.  Both Katherine and Elizabeth were strong, independent women – a rare occurrence considering the society they lived in.  Both believed in following their hearts and minds, not the stringent rules high society had engrained on its members.  It was no surprise then that the conversation eventually found itself at Elizabeth's love for Will.

"How is it that you came to know Mr. Turner, then?" Katherine inquired as she strolled alongside Elizabeth, her hands folded neatly in front of her.

"I suppose it was nine years ago now, that we rescued him.  Father, the Commodore, and I were on our crossing from England when we came across a shipwreck.  They rescued Will from the water, and he was eventually apprenticed to Mr. Brown, the blacksmith here in Port Royale.  I hardly saw him then – he was constantly working, and I believe my father did not approve of me spending so much time in his presence.  It wasn't until our adventure with the _Black Pearl_ that we became quite close," Elizabeth stated.  She was being careful not to reveal too much, as Katherine was Commodore Norrington's sister.  However, she was quite aware of Katherine's growing reputation around the circle of young ladies in Port Royale as an unconventional, bold person, and wondered if that would have any impact on her attitude toward her story.  Katherine was intrigued with Elizabeth's tale of the _Black Pearl_.

"You set fire to the trees?" Katherine asked in amazement.  "Dreadfully clever of you, I must say!"

"I had to get off that island somehow.  I knew the fleet was out looking for me, and all I needed was something large enough to grab their attention.  If not the Navy's attention, than hopefully a merchant ship that could be of assistance.  Either way Jack Sparrow was not of much use thanks to the entire bottle of vile rum he had consumed.  Of course, he eventually woke up and started ranting about my fires.  He was much more concerned about the rum being used than our rescue."

"And what happened when you were rescued?  What did Sparrow do then?" inquired Katherine.

"The Commodore arrested him.  Jack didn't have the opportunity to do anything obnoxious."

"Oh."

"Though he did try to convince my father and the Commodore to pursue the _Black Pearl_ to save Will.  To no avail, of course," Elizabeth said, her tone growing quieter as she approached the subject she most wanted to avoid with Katherine.

Katherine stopped in her tracks and turned her head to Elizabeth.  Her expression became quite cold.  "I suppose that is when you accepted the Commodore's proposal," she said coolly.

Elizabeth looked down momentarily as she pondered her next move.  She glanced up and over to Katherine.  "I fully meant it.  I do not give my word lightly, Katherine.  The Commodore is a fine man."

"I hate to be rude in this circumstance, but I do not believe I can trust you enough to believe that your word is given anything _but_ lightly.  Either way it was a lie."  

Elizabeth furrowed her brow at Katherine's ice-cold words.  "What are you implying?" she demanded.

Katherine straightened and looked down at Elizabeth.  "You agreed to marry a man that you did not love.  Even if you did go through with it, you would never have loved him the way he loves you.  But, of course, you opted to publicly humiliate him instead by throwing his proposal and his emotions back in his face.  How dare you…"

"Wait one minute," Elizabeth said as she repressed the need to grit her teeth.  "That was _not_ my intent.  Put yourself in the same position.  Will was about to be slaughtered at the hands of bloodthirsty rogues.  You yourself advocate following one's heart!"

"But at the complete destruction of another's?" Katherine retorted, her voice rising with every passing second.  She could feel her heart beating clear through her chest as she stepped closer to Elizabeth.  "James laid his life and the lives of all his men on the line for you, and you alone.  He could have been killed.  He most certainly lost many good soldiers, and never received so much as a 'thank you' from you!"

Elizabeth grimaced and shook her head in disbelief.  Katherine's words cut through her like a cold wind.  If she had not been so preoccupied with defending herself, they would have had much more emotional impact.  "I did not mean to hurt him," she declared, unsure of what else to say.  However, Elizabeth's words had a negative impact on Katherine.  She felt the blood rush to her face as the rage grew within, and eventually drove her to bring her right hand down on Elizabeth, connecting squarely with the younger woman's left cheek.

Elizabeth staggered back a step as she held her face, completely taken aback by what had just occurred.  She looked up to Katherine, who stood fast and wore lingering scowl.  The two glared at each other for a moment before Katherine stormed off to the house without saying a word.  Elizabeth stared after her before making her way to her carriage, flushed and angered.  The seeds of disaster had been sewn.


	26. Fall From Grace

Fall From Grace 

"Miss, a messenger just reported that the _Dauntless_ has returned."  Mr. Decker's words woke Katherine from the trance she had deftly slipped into since her encounter with Elizabeth Turner.  She stood, with her arms spread straight out against the glass, as she stared out the large picture window and out over the bay for a moment before turning to acknowledge the servant's words.  _James is due to return soon, and he will have my head,_ she thought furiously.  _I must go to him first and make him understand.  Katherine you unspeakable fool…_

Her mental assault continued as she went upstairs to freshen her appearance before traveling off to the Fort.  She had allowed her powerful emotions to get the best of her, and she feared that this time it would not be brushed under the rug.  She had assaulted the daughter of the Governor of Port Royale!  How could such an issue be brushed aside?  Katherine closed her eyes and leaned against her dresser.  _If I explain it to James like the adult that I am, he will understand_, she reassured herself.  _He always understands_.  She drew a long, calming breath and nodded to herself in the mirror before exiting the room and descending the stairs.  Darby was saddled and Katherine stroked the big grey's neck as she gazed into the horse's soft brown eyes.  "I've really done it this time, Darby," she admitted softly.  "And I've run out of clever ideas."  She chuckled under her breath as the gelding gently probed her for food.  Katherine mounted and headed off to Fort Charles, taking little heed of the deteriorating weather.

"Hands aloft to take in sail, gentlemen!" commanded Norrington from the helm of the HMS _Dauntless_.  The crew scurried in hundreds of different directions as the leviathan began to slow and settle gracefully into her place at the mouth of the harbor, the silent sentinel standing guard over Port Royale.  At the Commodore's orders, the prisoners from the pirate sloop were unloaded and escorted under heavy detail to the Fort's brig, and the next shift of sailors and marines took their place aboard the great vessel to stand alert.  Norrington personally inspected the _Dauntless_ from the bilges to the weather deck, from the bowsprit to the very aft rail, as he always did after a patrol.  His anticipated scrutiny only yielded minor reminders for sailors to tuck in their shirt or to straighten their jackets.  Not a weapon or rigging out of place.  He strolled about the ship with his hands folded neatly behind his back, a quiet and triumphant air about him.  Norrington took in the sweet sea air and let it linger as he gazed out to the open ocean from the quarterdeck of the _Dauntless_.  The sky was grey and threatening, the water grew darker and more menacing.  _Dreadful weather_, the Commodore noted to himself.  He sighed before turning slowly to disembark to begin the plethora of reports waiting for him ashore, leaving Lievtenant Gillette to finish up aboard the _Dauntless_.

Katherine settled uneasily in James's office, waiting for him to return.  Her stomach was a mass of knots and tightened unpleasantly at the thought of both the previous events and the discussion yet to come.  Unable to keep still, Katherine moved to one side of the office and studied the collection of books lining the wall.  The assorted collection included military tactics and strategy, shipbuilding, naval maneuvers and exercises, as well as infantry notes.  Amidst the mass of combat material, Katherine found two smaller bound books - Shakespeare's works.  They were well hidden amongst the other dry material, but certainly caught her attention.  She gingerly removed the two small books.  One was a neglected copy of Romeo and Juliet, the other was a well-worn collection of Shakespeare's sonnets.  The thought of her brother keeping a copy of Shakespeare's sonnets amused Katherine to no end.  Her jitters eased some as she flipped the book open.  It naturally opened to a crease, which had developed from repeated use.  Katherine studied the contents of the two pages, and her heart nearly leapt into her throat as she read sonnet 116.

Let me not to the marriage of true minds 

_Admit impediments.  Love is not love_

_Which alters when it alteration finds,_

_Or bends with the remover to remove:_

_O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark,_

_That looks on tempests and is never shaken;_

_It is the star to every wandering bark,_

_Who's worth's unknown, although his height be taken_

_Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks_

_Within his bending sickle's compass come;_

_Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,_

_But bears it out even to the edge of doom._

_If this be error, an upon me proved,_

_I never writ, nor no man ever loved._

Katherine stood motionless for quite sometime as she pondered those poetic words.  "James Norrington," she said to herself.  A small smile crossed her lips as she closed the book and held it against her chest.  "You never cease to amaze me…"  Her quiet moment was soon interrupted with the sounds of voices and footsteps down the corridor.  Katherine hastily placed the book back on the shelf and sat in a chair, folding her hands in her lap.  The knot in her stomach returned and grew intense as she drew a breath to maintain her composure.  She shut her eyes for a moment as she listened to the voices approach.  She opened them just in time to see the knob on the door turn slowly.

The Commodore saluted quickly as he watched Lievtenants Pearce and Groves continue on down the corridor.  He turned back to his office and was taken by surprise by Katherine's presence.  "Katherine," he mustered as he entered and closed the door behind him.  "You did not have to come and greet me, the weather is not being very agreeable at the moment."

Katherine waived her hand.  "No, it's quite alright.  I was feeling rather bored at home, actually.  I…just wanted to see how your expedition went," she stammered as she gripped the folds of her dress.

James looked at her skeptically and glanced at her hands before humoring her.  "We came across another hit, but luckily all the survivors were taken aboard the scoundrels' sloop and were not harmed.  We overtook them easily and they surrendered without a fight."

"Sounds exciting," she muttered as she managed a slightly nervous smile.

"Hardly," James replied.  He stepped forward to place his cover on the desk and continued to study her.  "Whatever is the matter?"

Katherine looked up and away.  "Nothing, I just wanted to be here when you arrived, that is all."

"Yes, well, I'm in one piece this time, so you may desist with the nervous worrying," he quipped.  When Katherine did not acknowledge him, James decided to become serious.  "Katherine, what is troubling you?"

"Nothing, James, I assure you."

"Bollocks," he said sternly.  "You did not come all the way down here, and are not fiddling over your dress for nothing.  Out with it."

Katherine glanced up at her brother.  He stood square in front of her, the bright lapels of his brilliant uniform standing out against the deep blue.  He looked every inch the successful Navy commander – the great Pirate Hunter himself.  Yet above the uniform was the face of her brother.  Though it was stern, his emerald eyes compromised his growing concern.  She always knew what he was feeling when she gazed up into his eyes – they were portals into his mind.  Katherine took a breath before opening her mouth to speak.  "Mrs. Turner stopped by today while you were gone."

James nodded slowly as he turned to examine the contents of his desktop.  "I suspect Mr. Turner wanted to inquire after the last order I placed with him," he noted.

"She came alone, James."

Norrington turned back to Katherine, still holding on to the list he was examining.  "Alone?  Why on earth did Mrs. Turner come by the estate unescorted?" he asked curiously.

Katherine shook her head.  "She said she wanted to speak to you personally."

"Interesting," James remarked as he turned back to sift through more papers.  "I'm sure you informed her of the reason for my absence.  Did she mention if she would call again later?"

"No, she did not mention a later date," Katherine said softly.  She paused for a moment as her dialogue with Elizabeth played over and over in her head.  "I don't understand it…" she murmured.

"Don't understand what?" Norrington inquired as he continued to sort through the stack of papers, his attention divided between the two interests.  

Katherine looked up at him from her chair.  "How you can simply stand aside and allow your heart to be stepped on repeatedly."

James looked up from the papers and sighed before turning toward her.  He suddenly had a good impression of what happened between his former fiancée and his emotive sister.   He knew now where she was taking the conversation, and he did not agree with the direction.  "Enough Katherine, I do not want to speak of it.  Mrs. Turner is happily married, and that is satisfactory enough for me," he declared as he moved to turn back to his desk.

"She _lied_ to you," Katherine said, trying to keep her voice stable.

Norrington paused and placed the papers back on the desk as he spread his arms along the fine wood.  "It would have been a lie either way, Katherine, only longer and more painful to the both of us if she kept her promise.  She loved another, and it is no fault of hers, Turner's, or mine," he stated as he glanced briefly over to Katherine, who was beginning to feel the tears massing within.

"Always the gentleman, eh James?" she asked, staring up at him.  "Content to sacrifice yourself for the good of a unappreciative, naïve girl?"

James wheeled around on Katherine.  True, Elizabeth had unknowingly stepped on his heart, but he would not see her reputation smeared either, and especially not by his own sister.  "I will not stand to hear this, Katherine.  I released Elizabeth from her promise – that is it.  Do not pain me and shame her simply to satisfy your morbid need for gossip or superiority.  She is happy now, which is all I can hope for.  It is best for everyone's sanity if we simply move on!"

Katherine stood and looked into her brother's eyes, though hot tears of emotion were gathering behind hers.  "Elizabeth and I discussed this, James.  She did not seem to understand!  It's as if she could not comprehend you were more than just the uniform!  I had to knock some sense into her, but even then I regret she failed to see my point…"

Words failed Norrington momentarily as he listened to Katherine.  She would not dare.  She would.  Suddenly his stomach turned to lead and he felt the blood rush to his face.  "You _struck_ her!?" he demanded suddenly, taking a quick step toward her.

"I did," she answered steadily.  The two stared at each other for what seemed like eternity before James suddenly reached for his cover and started toward the door.  "Where are you going!?" Katherine pleaded.

"To apologize to Governor Swann and Mrs. Turner for my sisters atrocious and purely uncivilized actions!" he retorted.

"James, don't!  You don't have to apologize for what I did."

"Yes I do.  Do you know why?" he asked impatiently as he took two steps toward her, the frustration and disappointment mounting in his tone.  "Because I am the Commodore of Fort Charles and responsible for the safety of Port Royale.  I am a _respected_ member of society, and you, Katherine, are my sister.  I am responsible for what you do and say here, whether or not you concur.  Your rash actions and emotions reflect poorly upon me, Katherine, and now I must repair the damage you have just caused!"  With that, Norrington turned on his heel and exited his office.  Katherine started after him, but stopped at the door.

"James, wait!" she called.  But the Commodore was not listening as he drew further and further away.  Katherine leaned back against the doorframe and fought back her tears once more.  She whispered, even though her brother was no longer there to hear.  "She never said so much as a 'thank you'…"

James gritted his teeth as he made his way to the stables and had Darby saddled with the appropriate tack.  _Insolent girl_, he thought.  Katherine certainly had a history of following her emotions, but could she allow them to take control of her faculties?  This concerned Norrington to no end.  He grabbed Darby's reins away from the groom and quickly mounted, hardly settling into the saddle before kicking the big gelding up into a gallop and heading toward the Governor's estate.  

Katherine remained up against the doorframe for several minutes.  _What am I to do now?_  She berated herself for angering her brother.  _Why does he not understand?  Why does no one understand!_  Through her mounting confusion and despair, Katherine picked up her head and remembered another shoulder she could cry on.  _Matthieu_, she thought.  She flew down the corridor to his office, only to find it empty.  After hailing a passing sailor, she learned that he was still aboard the _Dauntless_ and would be finished in due time.  Katherine decided to take the air outside on the Fort wall while she waited for him to return.  

The weather was bleak.  Katherine strolled across the courtyard and ascended the steps on the eastern side of the Fort wall.  She found only two soldiers out, and decided to avoid them because of her melancholy mood.  _They'd probably take me under arrest if they noticed me, and then James would have another thing to fuss over_, she thought furiously.  His reaction to her words was entirely unplanned and troubled her deeply.  Why was he acting this way?  Katherine was so engrossed in her musings that she did not even notice the deteriorating stone beneath her feet.

It crumbled beneath her like soft clay.  Her startled scream cut through the still air as she fell the 15 feet to the ground, pieces of crumbling stone blocks collapsing on top of her.  The breath was knocked from her lungs as she slammed into the ground.  She lay stunned and helpless as she watched the falling masonry and felt each impact on her unprotected body.  There was a great tearing sensation through her abdomen as she attempted to rise, and she immediately fell back against the dirt.  Katherine attempted to draw air into her lungs, but the staggering pain through her ribs prevented her from doing so.  She remained there, have encased in fallen masonry, breathless and praying for someone…anyone…

Norrington continued fuming on his way to the Governor's.  _How could she do this?  To the Governor's daughter, no less!  _Darby's enormous stride ate up the ground as James pushed him ever forward, his Commodore's coat trailing in the wind off behind him.  He was in a terrible hurry to set things straight.  Finally, the Governor's mansion came into view down the road, and Norrington gave the gelding another stern cue and the horse opened his stride even more as they approached.

Elizabeth had told Will and her father of her encounter with Katherine.  Both men seemed quite shocked and annoyed at Miss Norrington's actions.  Meanwhile, Elizabeth was seething.  She was too angered by Katherine's rash behavior to even consider what she had said.

Governor Weatherby Swann, Elizabeth, and Will Turner had just been preparing to leave to take tea at the Anderton's when they heard the unmistakable sounds of a horse at a hard gallop.  They all moved in front of the carriage to get a better view.  "It's Commodore Norrington," Will noted as he glanced over to Elizabeth and her father.  Governor Swann stepped forward as Norrington reined Darby to a hard halt just in front of the trio and dismounted, flushed and winded from the hard ride.  Darby snorted and shifted nervously before one of the footmen took his reins from the Commodore and led him off.  Norrington gripped the hilt of his sword and took a moment to catch his breath as Elizabeth waited expectantly for what he had to say.

"Governor Swann, Mrs. Turner, Mr. Turner," he greeted.

"Commodore," replied the Governor coolly.  

James's glance darted between the three of them as he chose his words.  "I am sure you have heard of my sister's actions, sir.  I have come to apologize to you and Elizabeth for what she has done.  It was rude and selfish of her."

Elizabeth did not know how to respond.  She was still angered, if not slightly embarrassed over the situation.  Will gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and she stole a glance at him as her father and the Commodore looked on.

"I am sure you must have been equally appalled at her conduct as I was," Weatherby began as he folded his hands behind his back.  "I am rather disappointed with Miss Norrington in this matter, James."

James nodded.  "She seems quite content to drive me completely mad and ruin our reputation at the same time, I'm afraid," he lamented.  He looked over to Elizabeth and tried to ignore the sound of rapid hoof beats behind him.  "Mrs. Turner, I want to apologize specifically to you.  Katherine is rather difficult character to control.  She lets her emotions take control, and rarely thinks a situation through.  Her opinions do not always reflect mine.  I am very sorry this happ - "

"Commodore!" a voice called out behind him.  Norrington quickly turned around to see a marine mounted on horseback.  

"This can wait one moment, Sergeant," he declared as he turned back to Elizabeth.  

"No, sir, it cannot," insisted the marine.  "You're needed back to the Fort at once, sir.  There's been an accident."  The marine now had the full attention of not only the Commodore, but also Governor Swann, Elizabeth, and Will.  

The Commodore narrowed his eyes as he turned to face the marine.  "An accident?  Of what kind?"

"It's Miss Norrington, Commodore.  She fell off some faulty masonry and she's bad.  They need you back at the Fort now, sir!" the marine demanded as he edged closer to the Commodore.  

That lead feeling in his stomach that Norrington had experienced earlier had returned, and he suddenly had to remind himself to breathe as he stood motionless, staring up at the marine.  The soldier's words hit the Commodore's ears, but he could not quite grasp them.  He turned back to the Governor, and then to Elizabeth.  Their expressions were filled with confusion and shock.  James locked eyes with Elizabeth for a brief moment before he turned and mounted up.  "Please excuse me, Governor," he said quickly.  "I must make haste."

"Good God, man, is there anything we can do?" the Governor inquired.

"I fear not," James uttered as he looked down at the Governor, Elizabeth, and Will.  He then swung Darby around on his haunches and urged the horse into an urgent gallop back to the Fort.  Governor Swann motioned for Elizabeth and Will to get in the carriage, and moments later they departed for Fort Charles as well.  

 It seemed as if a million thoughts were rushing through James's as he charged headlong back to the Fort.  He had warned her about the Fort wall, why had she not taken heed?  He did not know what happened.  He did not know what condition Katherine was in.  Nothing could have prepared him for what he was about to find.


	27. Fallen Angel

Fallen Angel 

"Get on!" Norrington cried as he urged Darby forward.  The horse responded with a slight grunt as his stride opened and lengthened more, his eyes whitened and his lungs drawing desperate breaths with each step.  The grey's feet seemed to hardly touch the ground as he flew down the road.  Hundreds of yards behind was Marine Sergeant Wilkins, who had brought the unexpected news of Miss Norrington's accident, and was now trying desperately to keep up with the Commodore's hurried flight to the Fort.  

Several people were still out on the road that day despite the weather, and quickly stepped aside as they saw none other than Commodore Norrington charging headlong toward Fort Charles, followed by a Marine.  Soon afterward Governor Swann's unmistakable carriage drove by in the same direction.  The curiosity of the onlookers was seized.  They half expected cannon fire or another sort of disruption, but none was to come.

The Commodore finally reached the Fort and reined Darby to a sliding halt as he jumped down from the saddle and practically threw the reins at the first Marine he saw.  He quickly made his way to the Medical ward, not bothering to wait for Governor Swann, Elizabeth, or Will as they arrived.  Norrington gathered his composure as he walked down the corridor, but once he turned the corner into the main wing of the ward he stopped at the sight of Lievtenant Gillette leaning against the wall.  The younger officer hardly seemed to take notice of his commander's presence as he closed his eyes and let his head fall against the wall.

"Matthieu," Norrington called out after a moment.  He took an apprehensive step toward his subordinate and allowed his left hand to loosen its grip on the sword at his side.  Gillette opened his eyes and glanced over to the Commodore, unsure of what to say.  

"James…" Gillette started.  His words trailed off as he absently waived his hand toward the door across the hall.  Matthieu closed his eyes once more and shook his head as the Governor approached hastily down the corridor, flanked by Elizabeth and Will.  _What in the Hell are they doing here_, he seethed.

Norrington drew a breath and moved in front of Gillette and toward the door, hardly taking notice of the Governor's company.  He had not made more than five steps before Quinlan appeared and blocked the Commodore's path.  The stout Irishman studied the younger man before him.  Norrington's breaths were short and anxious; his hand once more gripped the sword's hilt; his jaw clenched as he stood in front of the surgeon waiting for answers.  Quinlan moved forward and took hold of the Commodore's left arm and began walking him slowly toward the door.  "James me lad," Aiden started as he gazed down at the floor.  "I need ye to understand somethin' before ye go chargin' in there."

James stiffened slightly and looked down at the surgeon with his usual cold stare as his concentration returned.  "What is it Quinlan?" he demanded.

Aiden drew a breath as he stopped in front of the door and turned back to face Norrington.  "She had quite the fall not too long ago.  By the looks of it she stepped on some bad masonry and it collapsed right out from underneath her, then came crashin' down on top.  The stone did her a great deal of damage, lad.  Several broken ribs from what I can tell, abrasions, and a laceration wound to her abdomen."

James placed his hand on the wall and hung his head.  He was silent for what seemed like minutes before he mustered the composure to say anything.  "What is the prognosis?" he asked quietly.

"Katherine was a mess, James, I'll give ye that, but I'll tell ye another thing," Quinlan said.  "She's got one fightin' spirit in her.  Much like ye do.  She's been in and out of consciousness, but has not seemed to be deteriorating.  I don't know, lad, I just don't know.  She's sailin' rough seas right now, but with a little help I think she may just tough it out."

James nodded.  He continued to lean against the wall as he glanced over his left shoulder back at Gillette, Weatherby, Elizabeth, and Will.  He studied the group for a moment before Elizabeth turned her head away from her husband and met with the Commodore's stare.  James drew a breath before turning back to Quinlan.  "May I see her then?"

Aiden softened his expression some and moved to open the door.  "Of course.  Be careful not to get her excited though; she needs her rest now."

James moved slowly through the door and closed it behind him as he removed his uniform hat and approached the bed.  The room was lit with the grey hue of the sky, and there was an awkward silence.  The white linen on the bed stood out in the dreary atmosphere and drew Norrington's attention to the figure lying beneath it.  His heart sank a bit at the sight of the pale form on the pillow, but he gathered himself up and strode over to the bedside and gracefully sat in the wooden chair at the head of the bed.  The surgeon's assistants worked deftly around him, gathering used bandages and bloodied water bowls.  By the looks of it they had just finished cleaning her up and had only recently moved her into the secluded recovery room.  The medics left soon after and James turned his attention to Katherine.  Her hair was knotted and out of sorts and her face was shockingly pale.  He had never seen her with anything but a healthy, bright expression.  His gaze traveled down the bed to where her hands lay, limp by her sides.  James paused for a moment before gently taking her left hand in hers and cradling it softly in his grasp.  He leaned forward in his chair and hung his head as he let out a weary sigh.

"Mother will not be happy," declared a weak voice.  James looked up quickly and found Katherine staring at him.  He managed a small smile.

"Don't worry about mother," he whispered as gazed at her.  Katherine's expression was ragged and worn, undoubtedly due to her injuries.  James's face suddenly began to reflect the hurt he felt for her as his smile faded and his brow furrowed slightly.  He glanced back down at the floor, trying to avoid the pangs of disappointment he felt toward himself as he looked his sister in the eyes.  

"I've really done it this time," Katherine muttered.  

"No more so than usual," James quipped in an attempt to lighten the mood.  She laughed some, but the sharp pain that tore through her body quickly ceased her mirth.  Katherine's laughter quickly turned to wounded, choking coughs that threatened to rip her apart.  James instinctively leaned forward and placed a hand on her head as she settled back down into the pillows.  The taste of iron frightened Katherine as she quickly hid her revulsion and swallowed the offending substance back.  "I'm getting Quinlan," James declared suddenly, his tone full of worry.  
  


Katherine grasped the sleeve of his uniform as he rose from his chair.  "No," she rasped.  "James, please…Just sit with me for a while.  Please."

Norrington paused and looked to the floor.  He could not deny such a plea.  He turned slowly back to Katherine and sat back down at her side.  "Thank you," she whispered.  They remained there in silence as she gazed into his eyes for a long while.  She saw things she had rarely seen in her brother – fear, worry, angst, dread – all hidden under his overwhelming concern.  Katherine suddenly felt pity for the predicament she had put him in.  "I'm sorry about all of this," she managed between raspy breaths.

"Katherine…don't speak," James insisted.  He took her left hand once more in his as he glanced down at the sheets.  "It is no fault of yours, so forego the apologies."

"I did not mean to interfere - "

"Katherine, honestly," James said more sternly.  "Do not concern yourself over it.  It no longer matters to me."

Katherine blinked.  She wanted desperately to say the correct thing to him, but was completely incapable of conceiving the appropriate words.  She could only stare at him as the tenderness in her abdomen increased and the pain in her chest became more biting with every breath.  Katherine managed a fleeting smile as she studied his kind features.  "I regret that I am so difficult James."

"Don't be ridiculous," Norrington insisted.  "You're here to keep me in check.  I daresay you do it quite well.  You'll come out of this with your usual panache and can go right back to being 'difficult,' as you say.  That's an order, Miss Norrington."  A smirk fluttered at one side of his mouth as he looked down at his sister.  Katherine tilted her head down on the pillow and looked at her hand that James reassuringly held.  The optimism began to fade and her disappointment grew as she drew another pained breath.

"I'm frightened," she muttered.

James moved from the chair and kneeled beside her and brushed a stray hair from her pale face.  "So am I."

Katherine allowed herself a quaint little smile before drifting off into sleep.  Norrington leaned back in his chair and remained vigilant by her side as Quinlan came in to assess her condition.  He placed experienced fingers against her throat and felt her pulse and then moved to check her forehead.  James glanced up at the surgeon from his chair and watched the grizzled man work.  Aiden finished and motioned for Norrington to follow him outside.  They exited the room and Quinlan gently closed the door behind them.  "She's in a bit of a rough way, James, as ye can see."

Norrington leaned against the wall and casually hung his head.  "She had a coughing fit, I was about to come and retrieve you, but she implored me to stay with her," he confessed.  

"Aye.  I would say there's been a bit of damage to her lungs, lad, but it's hard to say without surgery, and that is, simply put, out of the question," Quinlan declared as he looked beyond the Commodore and noticed Miss Reynolds sitting on the edge of her chair with Gillette hovering over her.  James followed the surgeon's gaze and turned to discover Melissa's presence.  He gathered himself up and approached, Quinlan right on his heels.

"Miss Reynolds," James started.  His words quickly failed him as Melissa rose and approached, a hesitant look spread across her face.  She glanced off to her right to where Governor Swann and Elizabeth still stood, looking on.  Melissa moved to speak, but was unintentionally interrupted by the Governor.

"James, how is the situation?" inquired Weatherby, genuine concern filling his tone.

"Desperate, Governor.  I fear she is badly wounded," James said quietly as the Governor approached with Elizabeth on his arm.  Norrington looked quickly to the floor and then to Melissa, who had just been briefed of Katherine's condition.  He studied her fearful expression.  After one more declaration of sympathy and offer of assistance, the Governor and Elizabeth finally departed, leaving James, Matthieu, Melissa, and Aiden to sit and converse about Katherine's situation.

"Bloody engineers," Gillette spat as he rose and paced around the room.  "How long have we known about the stone deterioration?  They have done nothing!  The masons in this establishment are implacable and incompetent, and may the Lord help them if I ever get my hands around any of their sorry excuses for throats."

"That is quite enough, Matthieu!" James declared with a stern tone.  He fixed Gillette with a firm stare.  "It has been on the agenda for sometime, yes, but ranting about it now is not going to help."  Melissa leaned forward in her chair and placed a white hand on her mouth.  She was taking the news quietly.  Her eyes were reddened around the edges, but the tears had yet to fall.  She shook her head, unsure of what to make of the situation.  Katherine was badly injured, but she was resting comfortably.  The prognosis remained guarded, but Quinlan was at least thankful she had done well this far.

James escorted Melissa home after a few hours of vigil at Katherine's bedside.  She had woken momentarily and assured Melissa of her existence before once again relaxing back on the pillows.  Matthieu stayed dutifully by her bedside while James was gone, stroking Katherine's hair and cradling her hand in his.  He talked to her as she slept, telling her of the latest patrol and the new gossip around the Fort.  

Soon enough Norrington returned and replaced Gillette as the watchful eye.  Matthieu and James locked stares for a moment, communicating their worries silently.  James carefully grasped his friend by the shoulder in reassurance.  Gillette responded by taking hold of Norrington's arm.  "She'll pull through, James," Matthieu declared.  "She'll come out of this all the better."

James just nodded and patted Gillette's shoulder before taking his place in the chair at Katherine's side.  He desperately wanted to believe his friend's words, but something kept him from being optimistic.  Nightfall was upon them, and through the soft candlelit hue, James looked at his sleeping sister and smiled.  It reminded him of years past, when she was a little creature asleep in the nursery.  He had taken it upon himself as a young lad to watch over her.  Mother became tired easily; father was constantly away on business; Thomas had never taken an interest in anything but himself.  And there was James, trustworthy and devoted, standing guard.  The bond between he and Katherine quickly formed, and held true through the most difficult times – through eight years of separation.

Katherine stirred slightly and woke James from his trance.  He straightened in his chair before carefully checking her thin wrist to see how strong her pulse was.  She seemed stable and her breathing somewhat shallow, but rhythmical.  James looked around the room momentarily as a glint caught his eye.  He narrowed his eyes and rose from the chair to approach the small table across the way.  On it was a small gold necklace with a small angel figure.  James smiled to himself – this was Katherine's necklace.  Their father had given it to her when she was only eight years old.  She had gone around the rest of the day leaping and bounding across the house, flapping her arms like she was about to fly away like an angel.  James suppressed the soft laughter and returned to his chair.  He leaned back against the wooden frame and fingered the delicate jewelry.  His thoughts casually drifted back home and the events of the past.  It was not long before his eyes closed and he fell asleep.

Norrington woke with a start the following morning.  He found himself leaning miserably between the wall and his uncomfortable chair.  He grimaced as he straightened himself, stiff from the awkward position he had spend the night in.  His mind then quickly turned back to Katherine, who was looking up at him curiously.  "I was wondering when you'd wake up," she whispered.

James smirked as he placed a hand behind his sore back.  "How are you?" he asked as he studied her.

"Same," she sputtered.  Katherine looked down at her hand and the necklace she held.  "I borrowed this from you when I woke up.  I forgot I was wearing it."

"Katherine, I think it best if you do not speak.  Just rest now," James insisted.

Katherine paused and looked up at him a moment before turning her head and gazing out the window.  "It was beautiful, was it not?" she asked suddenly.

"Was what beautiful?"

"The sunset last night.  You left with Melissa, and the sky cleared just for a bit.  There were some brilliant yellows.  I should like to have painted it."

James allowed a soft smile to cross his face.  "Stay quiet and you shall be able to paint many more," he said.  She only laid there, gazing out the window.  Katherine then turned to him.

"You should go home, James," she declared quietly.  

"Positively not.  I'll stay here."

"Like you've done all my life," she noted.  The pain through her ribs never faded, but she desperately wanted to let James take some time.  "Go.  I will be fine.  You won't be disloyal if you take an hour for yourself, I assure you."

James shook his head in defiance.  Right then a soft knock landed on the door and Quinlan entered.  He looked at the two siblings and approached the bed.  "I just thought I'd let ye know that Governor Swann will be stoppin' by in little over an hour, sir," Aiden said.  "I suggest ye go home and get yerself cleaned up a bit.  Eatin' would be a good idea too, ye know," he teased.  

"My sister already tried that trick, Mr. Quinlan, and it will not work.  I'm staying here," Norrington declared.

"Ye look like hell, Commodore darlin!" Quinlan retorted.  "Matthieu will arrive soon enough to stand guard.  Go home, clean up, eat, and come on back.  Ye won't be more than an hour, and that'll be in right good time with the Governor.  Don't make me chase ye, 'cause ye know I will."

James looked back to Katherine, but her weary expression reflected Quinlan's.  He nodded and rose slowly from the chair.  "I'll be back soon, Katherine," he said as he looked back at his sister.  She smiled softly at him.

"I'll be waiting."

The two gentlemen left the room.  Katherine turned her head and looked out the open window.  Fatigue and injury had begun to take their toll on the frail figure.  She shut her eyes and her grip on her necklace loosened as she eventually slipped back into the black oblivion that embraced her warmly.  She sank against the pillows as unhurried breaths escaped her lips.  Slowly, her body melted into the sheets.  The internal bleeding had become too great.  Her breaths slowed and soon enough the rhythmic rising and falling of her chest ceased.  Her heart gradually came to a halt.  Katherine went quietly as the angel necklace slipped from her grasp.


	28. Lost

Lost 

The Governor's carriage rolled into the Fort, led by the thundering hooves of the two draft horses pulling it.  It came slowly to a stop and Governor Swann stepped down and offered Elizabeth a hand.  They had come to check on Katherine's condition while Will was off working on the latest order Commodore Norrington had placed for the new Midshipmen joining the Port Royale fleet.  

The distinguished pair made their way through the courtyard and entered the hospital wing, walking silently through the corridors.  Weatherby felt compelled to visit and offer his assistance; Elizabeth joined him because she could not fathom staying away at a time like this.  Despite the embarrassing encounter with Katherine the day before, Elizabeth felt genuinely concerned for both her and the Commodore.  She had spent several hours out of guilt pouring over Katherine's words and the events involving the _Black Pearl_.  Had she really hurt the Commodore that much?  Elizabeth had given it little thought, and reassured herself that Norrington was a strong, charming gentleman and could do quite well without her.  He seemed to accept it so well that day on the battlements – he simply stepped aside with dignity and did not appear to look back.

_Or did he?_

For some reason this question was bothering Elizabeth to no end.  It racked her brain even as she approached the eastern wing of the ward where Katherine was located.  A small knot began to form in Elizabeth's stomach as they drew near in anticipation of seeing Norrington.  The situation had become that much more awkward for Elizabeth now that she was taking note of her past actions.  She drew a breath and tightened her grasp on her father's arm as the two rounded the corner and found Lievtenant Gillette sitting with his head in his hands, his uniform hat hanging between two indifferent fingers.   Beyond him surgeon Aiden Quinlan was comforting Melissa, who was openly weeping.

Elizabeth paused.  Quinlan stood and approached, looking worn well beyond his years.  His grizzled hair was disheveled and his face seemed to fall with each step.  She did not know the surgeon well, but she could always count on the Irishman to be lively.  He stopped just in front of the Governor and Elizabeth.    _It didn't happen_…she assured herself.  But the circumstances convinced her otherwise.

Quinlan waited a long while before drawing a breath to speak.  "Governor Swann, Miss Elizabeth…I regret to say that Miss Katherine passed not too long ago," he said wearily.  He looked down to the floor as Weatherby stiffened.  

"Good God…" the Governor whispered.

Elizabeth looked over to the surgeon.  "Is the Commodore with her now?" she inquired suddenly.

Quinlan paused, unsure of what to say.  Finally, he said quietly, "The Commodore went home for a moment and is about to return…I'm afraid he does not yet know, Miss Elizabeth."  

Elizabeth's stomach suddenly felt like stone.  _He does not know?_  _How would he receive the news?  _She drew a breath before quickly moving from her father's side over to Melissa and sitting next to her, the concern evident in her expression.  "I am so sorry," Elizabeth consoled.  She gently took Melissa's shaking hand and helped to comfort her best she could.  Elizabeth remained by Melissa and watched as Weatherby discussed the situation with Quinlan.  They were deep in conversation when footsteps were heard down the hall.  Everyone paused in nervous anticipation, and their worst fears came true when the figure rounded the corner.  It was Commodore Norrington.

James had returned home for a fresh uniform, to alert the house staff to Katherine's condition, and a bite to eat.  He spent about 20 minutes sprawled out on the couch, then made his way back to the Fort, completely unaware of what had occurred.  He strode down the corridor with purpose, hoping to make it back to see Katherine before the Governor arrived and the pleasantries began.  As James approached, he could see that he had failed on that account.  He slowed his step and greeted Swann and Quinlan.  Norrington became uneasy at their solemn expressions and sheer lack of conversation.  He glanced over his left shoulder and saw Gillette cradling his head in his hands, and Elizabeth in the corner with Melissa.  Elizabeth glanced over to the Commodore almost with pity; she was worried how he would take the news of his sister's death.

"What in God's name has happened?" demanded the Commodore as he looked to Quinlan.  He stood stiffly as his left hand gripped the hilt of his sword uneasily.

Aiden stepped forward and looked up at Norrington.  "James…Katherine's injuries were terrible.  There was a lot of bleedin' in her belly and it just got to be too much.  She died, James.  I'm so sorry, lad…"

Quinlan's words sent James's head spinning.  He suddenly found it difficult to breathe.  He stumbled back a step and leaned against the wall for support as he tried to comprehend what had happened.  His gaze moved from Quinlan to the door behind him.  The surgeon continued with his explanation, but though he tried, Norrington could not listen.  He could only rest his head back against the wall and draw suffocated breaths.  Aiden took the Commodore's arm to steady him, but was shaken off as Norrington suddenly straightened himself and made his way past Quinlan to the door.

James entered the silent room and his attention immediately turned to the still figure on the bed.  He approached deftly, as if he were afraid to disturb her, and stopped at the side of the bed and studied Katherine's face.  The pain he had last seen on her features was erased, and she seemed to be so peaceful lying there.  He gazed at her a long while before spying dried blood on the other side of her pillow.  James let his eyes fall to the floor.  He noticed a small object under the bed, retrieved it, and held it up to the light.  It was Katherine's gold necklace with the angel figurine.  Overwhelming guilt and sorrow suddenly swept through him, and he sank to his knees and buried his face in the sheets.  James took Katherine's hand in his as the emotion finally rose to the surface and he wept.  He wept for her pain, for her loss, for the feeling of complete helplessness that had hit him so suddenly.  The choking sobs eventually ceased as he sank further to the floor and slumped against the bed.  _This is not happening_, he thought as he shut his eyes against cold reality.  He remained there for several minutes against the bed, like a lost dog mourning the loss of his master.  He fingered the necklace and thought about what was, and what could have been.  The devastation had eventually become too much for him to bear, and he slowly drew himself to his feet.  

Elizabeth had been sitting with Melissa when she heard the door open.  Quinlan and Weatherby instinctively stood as the Commodore rounded the corner.  Elizabeth sucked in a breath when she looked at Norrington – his shoulders hung, defeated, and his confident gaze drifted to the floor before making its way around the room.   Melissa finally looked up at him and shook her head in confused grief.

"James…" she murmured, tears once more welling behind her eyes.  He only turned his eyes to the ceiling and drew a number of hurried breaths to keep his own tears at bay.  James looked back down to Matthieu, searching for some reassurance from his trusted second, but he only found a reflection of his own devastation.  Norrington gripped the edge of his uniform hat as he pondered what to do next, then quickly placed it atop his head and started down the corridor.  Melissa moved to follow him, but could not bring herself to take a step.  She sat back once more in the chair.  "He blames himself," she declared, as she absently brushed her blonde hair away from her face.

"Someone needs to talk to him before he does something he'll regret," Elizabeth said.  She looked to Melissa and Matthieu, but both were equally distraught.  Elizabeth made up her mind and started after the Commodore.

James trudged out to the stables, numb and indifferent to the Fort activity around him.  A groom led Darby out, and suddenly the sight of the big grey reminded him of that day on the dock when Katherine arrived to Port Royale.  James smiled slightly as he stroked the horse's velvet nose and looked up at the horse's large brown eyes, which showed the same inherent good nature that Katherine's did.  Darby nudged Norrington as he lowered his head and allowed James to rest his head on his.  They spent a fleeting moment like that before James decided it best to be in private.  He swung up into the saddle and cantered off just as Elizabeth entered the courtyard.  She sighed in frustration before turning back to find her carriage driver.

***

Governor Swann had wanted a word with Lievtenant Gillette shortly after Commodore Norrington had left.  They made their way toward Gillette's office in the western wing of the Fort.  Melissa opted to stay back and wait for James should he return, and Quinlan returned to Katherine's bedside to finish cleaning her up.  Melissa's mind was cloudy with grief.  She felt she could not quite grasp control of the fact that one of her closest acquaintances had just passed.  It was so sudden – Katherine was so full of life when this tragedy occurred.  She had plans for herself and Matthieu.  However, the future was no more, and all Melissa had now was the past, much like James.  Her heart sank at the thought of his reaction and what he must be feeling now.  She desperately wanted to be with him, but she could not bring herself to do it.  He looked like he needed some strong advice, and strength was something Melissa did not believe she had at the moment.  She then thought about Matthieu – he had less than either Melissa or James.  They had years of memories, while he had only months.  He, too, had plans for his future with Katherine.  _Why must things happen like this_?  Melissa had lost both of her parents, and though she was devastated at their loss, she took comfort in the fact that they were now together with God and had accomplished great things in their lives.  Katherine was only 22, and had only begun to live.  Melissa was so deep in thought that she hardly took notice of the approaching uniform.  

"Good day, Miss Reynolds.  I did not expect to find you here," Captain Thomas Martin declared as he folded his rough hands behind his back.

Melissa looked up and then stood, reminding herself to be civil.  James and Matthieu and departed enough tales of Martin's attitude to shy her away from him whenever possible.  But this time she found herself cornered, and only hoped that he should go away soon enough.  "Captain," she greeted.  She was too emotionally drained to add pleasantries.

"Might I inquire as to why a fine lady such as yourself is sitting alone?" he asked, taking a step toward her.

Melissa shifted slightly as she thought of what to say.  "I am waiting on Commodore Norrington," she said flatly.

"Hardly the conduct of a _gentleman_ to leave his lady by herself in such a dreary atmosphere," Martin declared as his lifted his chin confidently and took another step.  He had been watching her since she had arrived, and was attracted to her beauty.  _What could she possibly see in that twit_, he always thought when he saw her with Norrington.  

"I beg your pardon, Captain Martin.  I am afraid the Commodore had a loss in the family.  Someone very dear to both him and myself," Melissa asserted.  She could not believe the comments coming out of Martin's mouth, though she admitted to herself that it was not completely surprising.

The Captain paused and allowed his hands to fall to his sides.  His mouth twisted into what Melissa believed was a frown, though it was difficult to say with his usual displeased features.  "I suppose that would be Miss Norrington.  Fell off the battlement yesterday afternoon.  Tragic, very tragic…" Martin declared as his eyes trailed up from the floor to Melissa's face.  "Especially considering she was under the _Commodore_'s care at the time.  She should have been supervised."

"He was out on patrol, Captain Martin," Melissa affirmed as she straightened herself up.  The anger was beginning to take over for her overwhelming sadness as she defended James.  "Do not go blaming this on the Commodore, sir.  He surely does not deserve your slander."

Martin scoffed.  "Much like I do not deserve to be serving under a bloody cabin boy who cannot keep his half wit sister under control?" he asked brusquely.  He stepped toward Melissa once more as she backed away.  He lowered his voice into a harsh whisper as he inched closer.  "Much like you do not deserve a man who obviously does not properly care for the women in his life."  

Melissa stopped retreating and stood fast in front of Martin.  His words were sharp as the blade at his side, and intended to hurt.  Anger crossed her pale expression as she quickly stepped forward and brought her hand across Martin's cheek with a resounding slap.  He recoiled momentarily before gathering himself back up and grasping Melissa's arm roughly.

"You will regret that," he hissed as he drew her closer to him.  Melissa cringed as hot breath fell upon her neck.  She pulled away, but his grasp was firm as he continued to stare at her.  "No one seems to understand the concept of respect in this damn town."

"Unhand her, Captain Martin!" 

Melissa looked over Martin's left shoulder as he released her, and saw Governor Swann standing officially in the corridor, flanked by Quinlan and Gillette, who was ready to draw his sword.  "It seems as if you do not understand the concept of 'respect' either, Mister Martin.  A _gentleman_ never places his hands on a lady in such a fashion."

"Governor Swann," Martin greeted hastily. 

"You will be sure to enjoy your command from the brig, _Captain_, or perhaps not at all," Swann retorted.  "Leave at once."  Martin glared back over his shoulder to Melissa before smoothing the lapels of his uniform coat and stepping hurriedly past the group and continuing down the corridor.   Once he was gone, Weatherby quickly moved to Melissa's side as she stretched out her arms for support.  He caught her and gently sat her down as her angered façade begin to fade and the tears came once more.  

Quinlan kneeled in front of her and gave a reassuring smile.  "Aye lass, 'tis a good thing ye did that, because if ye didn't, I sure as hell would've.  And I would not have been nice about it, either!"

***

Commodore Norrington rode for what seemed like an eternity.  He had no direction – he simply allowed Darby to carry him wherever the grey's legs would travel.  Once well away from the Fort, James turned the horse away from the public road and started toward the bluff where he had found Matthieu and Katherine that one day.  It was the one place he thought he could be alone.

Elizabeth had urged the driver to follow Norrington best he could, but they soon lost track of the pair ahead of them.  They carried on after inquiring some passing townspeople if the Commodore had passed by, and eventually came to the softer road where the large hoof prints of Norrington's grey gelding were easily visible.  Elizabeth reassured the driver and carefully the horses moved forward along the overgrown road.  Moments later the carriage came to a halt.

"There's a horse up ahead, Miss," the driver called from his seat.  Elizabeth stuck her head out the window and saw Darby grazing contently on his own.  Her brow furrowed.  _Where is the Commodore_?  She quickly climbed out of the carriage and instructed the driver to wait for her there, at a distance.  Elizabeth gazed down the road and spotted a figure by the lone tree overlooking the scenic bluff.  She drew a breath before starting slowly toward it.  What was she going to say to him?  His expression haunted her, and Katherine's words began to play over and over in her head.  Elizabeth hesitated and she slowed her approach, hoping that perhaps Norrington would see her and invite her over.

But no such thing happened.  Elizabeth came to a complete stop as she gazed over to the tree.  There was the Commodore, apparently oblivious to her presence, with an arm up against the trunk of the tree, and his head hanging.  She watched as he suddenly lashed out with his right fist and struck the rough bark with the welling frustration inside him.  He then threw himself at the tree and sank to the ground.  Elizabeth ran to his side.

"Commodore," she called as she approached.  She slowed to a walk as she drew near his slumped figure.  She had never seen him like this before in their eight years of acquaintance, and it troubled her.  Elizabeth stopped and came to face him.  He did not move, even to address her presence.  "James…I'm so sorry," she managed as she stared down at him.  He narrowed his eyes and drew several deliberate breaths to calm himself, but still did not look up to address her.  Elizabeth finally grew impatient and took action, kneeling beside him.  She smoothed out her skirts, but as she looked up at the Commodore, something struck her.  Was he _crying?  _No.  But he wanted to…

James took little notice of Elizabeth for the first time since they had met.  He could only sit there, completely deadened to anything around him.  His gaze fell upon the ocean, but he did not see.  Elizabeth was speaking, but he did not hear.  His thoughts were fixed on his sister.  Katherine was his dreadnought, the driving force in his life, which had just foundered beneath him from a broadside assault, leaving him with nothing to hold onto.  James felt as if he was lost in a deadly storm as the vast sea of despair moved to swallow him whole.  His emotions were no longer a mystery – the loss and devastation was written on his face for all to see.  He suddenly was so vulnerable. 

Elizabeth sat with him a moment before noticing his right hand.  The gash across the top of his knuckles was bleeding quite freely over his uniform, but he paid it no attention.  "You're bleeding," she said suddenly, but evoked no response from Norrington.  She drew a slow breath before pleading with him.  "James please, let me help."

He simply shook his head slightly and continued to gaze out to sea.  Elizabeth could sense the wall forming around him.  "What happened was awful, but you cannot go blaming yourself for this.  It was an accident, James," she assured him.  Elizabeth's words seemed to break the barrier between them as the tears began to well in James's eyes.  He clenched his left hand into a fist and closed his eyes as he fought back his emotions in vain.  He wanted to let go; he wanted desperately to confide in someone.  A whirlwind of feelings was sweeping through him and he could not decipher any of them.  His world was falling apart and he felt helpless to stop it.

Elizabeth saw him fighting back the tears and suddenly pitied him for his struggle.  Propriety be damned...She quickly took his fist in her hands, which had the desired effect.  James reluctantly surrendered to his emotions and began to cry openly as he collapsed forward.  Elizabeth caught him and brought his head to rest on her shoulder as her left cheek brushed up against his dark hair.  She closed her eyes and drew a slow breath as she cradled him and let him do the one thing he could do nowhere else.  They remained braced up against each other for some time before Elizabeth gathered her composure to speak.

"I am so sorry," she whispered.  Elizabeth wanted to confess her wrong doing all at once, but she had no idea how to express herself now.  She fought back her own tears as she continued.  "Katherine loved you, James.  I…never saw through it, what I did to you.  Perhaps I thought about it out of guilt, I don't know, but I should never have used you like that.  I cannot even begin to ask for forgiveness."  

  


_Author's Note:_

_I appreciate everyone being patient with the progress of Broadsides.  I realize I have not updated recently, but I assure you, this story WILL be completed._

_And please take note of some subtle changes in this chapter._


	29. Shadow of Death

Shadow of Death 

Months had passed since the incident with the _Black Pearl_ and the _Isla de Muerta_, and yet Elizabeth found it as fresh as the sea breeze in her mind as she strolled solemnly through the cemetery.  There, on the western edge of the hallowed ground, stood a simple stone monument bearing the insignia of His Majesty's Royal Navy.  The stone stood facing the trade winds coming off the Caribbean Sea, and overlooked the water that its sailors held so dear.  She approached it cautiously as if not to disturb the ground around her.  Elizabeth paused merely a foot away from the structure and softly reached out to touch it.    A great sinking feeling overcame her as she began to read the list of names lost that night aboard the HMS _Dauntless_ at the island that no one could find.

Mr. Benjamin Pullings, Sailing Master

Mr. Theodore Groves, Second Lieutenant

Mr. Robert Redding, Midshipman

Mr. Frederick Blakely, Midshipman

Mr. Stephen Wilksby, Able Seaman

Mr. Matthew Giles, Able Seaman

Mr. Jacoby Smith, Ordinary Seaman

Sgt. Edward Frank, Royal Marines

Sgt. Jonathan Mark, Royal Marines

Pvt. Marcus Lane, Royal Marines

Pvt. Thomas Fish, Royal Marines

Dozens more names followed, and Elizabeth's throat tightened with each additional identity.  Her spirit fell some as she ran her fingers down the 76 lines of etching in the stone.  Officers, sailors, Royal Marines; suddenly, it had become clear.  Clear, if not painfully obvious.  Each name represented a son, a brother, a father, a lover, and a companion.  She had thought little of the implications of her actions on the members of the Port Royale fleet until this day.  Why exactly she had waited until this day to remember their sacrifice, she could not say.  Perhaps it was Katherine's funeral.  Perhaps because she had never had a need to visit the cemetery, seeing that her mother was buried thousands of miles away in England.  Perhaps she was simply too young at the time to truly understand what it was to lose someone.  And perhaps it was because Elizabeth had always taken the Navy's presence for granted, as many society members managed to do.  To a young girl and naïve woman, they were merely red and blue coats topped by masks.

However, Elizabeth now felt complete and utter sympathy for each of the names on that solemn stone.  She was only eight years old when her mother passed away due to fever.  Repeatedly Elizabeth had been told that her mother was now with God and his angels.  She imagined her mother in Heaven, smiling down at her.  Even though it was someone so close as her mother, Elizabeth was still quite removed from the situation at her father's request.  For so long, death had been a peaceful event to Elizabeth, merely a new beginning that allowed loved ones to one day be reunited under God's watchful eye.  But, as Elizabeth ran her fingers over the names on the monument she felt a commanding sense of finality.  These fine men were gone and were not coming back.  What had changed her outlook?

The Commodore.  Watching Norrington struggle with the tragedy that had struck affected Elizabeth in more ways than she could possibly admit.  To see someone so outwardly composed through stress and battle - even rejection – crumble like soft clay shook Elizabeth to her core.  In nine years of guarded relations she had never seen so much as a quiver in his resolve or outward composure.  Watching the walls collapse around him only days before and feeling his hot tears on her fingers threatened to destroy her own false sense of security.  This whole disaster had brought to light that perhaps death was final.

And as Elizabeth made her way to the procession and came to stand directly across the freshly dug grave from the Commodore, thoughts began to flood her.  Thoughts of the last conversation she had with her mother, memories of the day she was laid to rest, and seeing her father weep afterwards.  She could suddenly empathize with James so well.

She watched him now, standing rigidly across from her, eyes drawn to the ground.  Elizabeth could not remember the last time she had seen him look so utterly defeated.  Melissa Reynolds stood just off to his left on the arm of her uncle, Joshua Meyerson.  Lievtenant Gillette, Norrington's trusted second and Katherine's beloved acquaintance, stood off to the Commodore's right.  All three seemed completely devoid of color.  Their expressions were worn and blank as they stared at the casket being lowered into the ground.  Elizabeth watched as well before moving her eyes up to James.  He seemed quite distant, and though his eyes were on the grave, it was as if he was staring through to something other entirely.  Through his blank and granite expression she thought she saw a tear running down his cheek.  Elizabeth drew a breath and thought back to the names on the stone overlooking the sea.  If that stone monument could cry, Elizabeth had no doubt that at this very moment tears would flow from every etch.

            ***

There was no sun on the day Katherine was laid to rest.  James found the Caribbean weather to be bewildering and spontaneous regarding its changes, but never before had he seen it to match the mood quite so well.  The clouds hung in the sky like a thick blanket.  Their dark appearance threatened rain, but yet nothing fell.  It was as if the clouds themselves were refraining from weeping.  The grey overcast seemed to cast a shadow on everything the light would have touched.  The brilliant greens of the Caribbean vegetation were dull and seemingly lifeless; even the ocean herself was an ominous grey.  

What Norrington would have given to escape to sea!  To harness the wind and sail upon the waves, enjoying nature's powerful majesty and breathing the sweet ocean air, and return to Port Royale to find everything as it should be.  James longed for the sea at this very moment as Katherine's grave was slowly filled in.  He wanted desperately to embrace his younger sister, to apologize for all the wrong he had done her, to confide in her and enjoy her company.  But with each additional pound of earth thrown upon the coffin his hopes diminished and cold reality became more apparent.  James gripped the hilt of his dress sword uneasily and drew several slow breaths to calm himself.  As he watched the grave filling in, his thoughts strangely moved thousands of miles away to England.  How in the world do I inform everyone?  What will mother think…James thought as he stood there numbly.  He could already imagine his mother sinking to the floor and weeping desperately.  He considered writing a letter home the previous day, but could not bring himself to do it.  It felt too impersonal, much like the letters he would write to the families of soldiers and sailors who had died in the line of duty.  He thought about sailing for England and deliver the news personally, but could not fathom leaving everything so hastily.  Perhaps he would make for England the next month or so when the Dauntless was due to sail to Portsmouth for refitting.  Thoughts and possibilities circled endlessly in James's head.  Finally, the grave was covered and the funeral attendees began to disperse.  Commodore Norrington remained there, staring endlessly at the subtle mound of earth just before him.  It was so irrevocable, so cold.  Katherine Norrington, the younger sister he had helped raised and worked so hard to protect, his one true confidant, was lost to him forever.

James remained there for several minutes, still and silent as a stone.  Melissa turned to him and gently placed a hand over his left arm.  She knew not what to say to him at this moment, for she too was torn inside over the loss of her dear friend.  She stepped closer to him and opened her mouth to speak, but could not quite find the words.  Her eyes fell to the ground as she remained there, silent.  James tilted his head toward her, so they were undoubtedly staring at the same spot on the tired grass.  Neither said a word, and moments later Melissa drew away on the arm of her uncle. 

After politely and half-heartedly accepting condolences from the Governor and other members of Port Royale society, James paused and waited until he was alone before removing a neat piece of paper from the pocket of his uniform coat, kneeling beside the grave, and reading it at a nearly inaudible volume.

"Farewell thou art too dear for my possessing, 

And like enough though know'st thy estimate.

The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing;

My bonds in thee are all determinate.

For how do I hold thee but by thy granting,

And for that riches where is my deserving?

And so my patent back again is swerving.

Thyself though gav'st, thy own worth then not knowing,

Or me to whom thou gav'st it else mistaking;

So thy great gift, upon misprison growing, 

Comes home again, on better judgment making.

Thus have I had thee as a dream doth flatter;

In sleep a king, but waking no such matter."

He fingered the paper for a moment before leaning forward and placing it at the base of the headstone.  Finally, he drew himself back to his feet and walked over to where his horse was waiting for him.  He took Darby's reins and stroked the fine grey neck.  James then took a moment to look into Darby's eyes.  Those large, brown eyes bore a softness that he had always seen in Katherine.  They represented a kindness and willingness that both had shared.  James always considered it a humorous coincidence that Katherine and Darby held so much in common.  Two stunning beings in his life, both full of energy and too bold for their own good.  But James could no longer fault either of them for that.  Whenever Darby shied or playfully bucked, it would have new meaning.  James smiled and scoffed as he brought the horse's head to his chest.  "Not that it gives you any excuse, of course," he whispered into the big grey's ear.  Darby lipped the Commodore's uniform sleeve before searching pockets for food.  James merely patted the horse's neck before mounting up and heading once more toward the Fort.

            ***

Fort Charles went about its dutiful ways since the tragedy, though Commodore Norrington's presence had been sporadic at best.  He was good enough to see that the proper officers were put in charge of the Fort's daily activities as well as those of the fleet.  Lievtenant Gillette's presence had been more abundant, but not nearly as productive.  He spent a great deal of his time alone in his office.  He confided in no one and it seemed his air was that of despair and anger.  James had recognized this and could not let it go on for fear of destroying the young officer.

The funeral had not been over for more than a half hour before Norrington reached his office.  He absently hung his uniform hat and periwig and walked to his desk with an exhausted step.  His book of Shakespeare's sonnets was lying abandoned on the fine wood top.  He had seen it the day before out of place – undoubtedly due to Katherine's curiosity the day of the accident.  It was from this book that he withdrew Sonnet 87 and placed it at Katherine's grave for her to have.  She was better than he, better than the entire family, possibly better than the whole of society.  She always had been, and always would be.  James felt she needed to know in death what was never expressed to her in life.

A soft knock upon the door interrupted the reverie.  James looked up before delicately placing the book back on the desk and rising slowly from his chair.  He had dreaded this moment since he had learned of Katherine's death.  He drew a breath and straightened some before bidding the person to enter.

Lievtenant Gillette opened the door and entered with a slightly dragging step.  James watched as Gillette closed the door and came to stand at attention directly in front of him, staring past the Commodore as if eye contact would earn him 15 lashes.  James exhaled and shifted his stance as he studied his longtime comrade.  The knot in his stomach doubled in size as he thought about the circumstances.

"I think you know why I asked you here," James started somewhat uneasily.

Gillette's eyes shifted toward his commander for a fleeting moment before resting on the same spot on the wall in front of him.  "The manifests are all in order, sir, I'm sure you shall find everything prepared for the Gallant's arrival two weeks hence," he declared with an official tone tinged with exhaustion.

Norrington instinctively waved his hand at his subordinate.  He then paused and drew a calming breath.  "It's not about that, Matthieu," he started quietly.  "I wanted to ask you how you are faring."

A flicker of pain shot through Gillette's expression as his gaze dropped to the floor.  He removed his uniform hat and began to examine some of its gold brocade.  "I should ask you the same thing."

James nodded and folded his hands behind his back.  His gaze, too, fell to the floor as he searched for the words.  "I apologize for waiting so long to seek you out, Matthieu."

Now it was Gillette's turn to wave his hand at James.  "I understand, James.  Really…do not concern yourself over it."

"I shall concern myself over it, Matthieu," said James as he took a step toward Gillette.  "I…was…so lost, I suppose, I regret I failed to think of how anyone else might be affected."

"You lost a member of your family, it's to be expected," muttered Gillette.

James steadied himself on his desk with his right hand.  Matthieu's words only reminded him painfully of the reason why they were here this moment in the first place.  James clenched his jaw and glanced up at the ceiling as he fought back the threatening tears and regained composure.  "Quite so," James mustered, his voice wavering some.  He turned as if he were looking for something, and then his hand flew to one of the pockets on the uniform coat.  "I…I have something that I would like to give to you."

Gillette watched as James withdrew a fine gold chain from his pocket.  Dangling from the middle of the necklace was a small gold angel figure.  "This was given to Katherine when she was a little girl," James explained as he lovingly studied the jewelry.  "I remember father gave it to her because he always called her his angel.  She's had it all this time…"  A small smiled played at the edges of James's lips as he thought back through the years.  He finally looked back up to Gillette and held out the necklace.  "I think you should have this, to remember her by."

Matthieu choked back the emotion welling up inside him as he slowly reached out and took the necklace.  He held it carefully as if it might crumble in his grasp.  James watched him for a moment before speaking once more.  "She loved you, Matthieu, of that I am certain.  She kept on explaining how she turned down suitor after suitor in England, and how she would only marry for love.  I believe she found it."

Matthieu looked up from the necklace and directly into James's eyes when he muttered those words.  He watched as his commanding officer and friend fought with his own emotions.  James paused for a moment as his eyes fell to the floor.  He then brought his eyes back up and straightened his stance.  "There would have been no greater honor than to call you my brother."

All of the dreams Gillette had conjured and all the memories that he and Katherine had shared suddenly came flooding back into his mind.  Marriage, children, promotion, and an adventure to the colonies were all on their agenda.  But those dreams were now scattered to the wind with Katherine's passing.  Despair over her death and relief over James's acknowledgement swept through Matthieu like a storm as he embraced James.  They were already brothers, if not by blood or marriage, than by duty and passion.  A duty to King and country, and a passion for the ones they held dear.  It was a bond that not even death could break.

Please take note of my name change and acknowledge the fact that **CommodoresLady** and **L.M. Colburn** are one and the same.

Thank you for your patience, and do not worry – there is plenty more to come!  Once again, thank you for the wonderful reviews, they truly mean a lot.

And if you're looking for a fun time, take a look at my Webshots photo albums to see the author with the real life inspiration for our beloved Darby!  With any luck this horse will come home and be my pet for the summer. J


	30. All Our Yesterdays

All Our Yesterdays 

Gardening was an activity that Melissa Reynolds had always found as an escape.  She had developed a great fervor for it as a girl, and often spent hours out in the garden with her parents.  She and her mother had cultivated a modest plot of vibrant color at their home in England.  When her mother passed away, Melissa spent a great deal of her time outside tending to the delicate blossoms that her mother had cared so well for.  

After her father's death, Melissa once again retreated to the familiar company of the flowers.  She was a more mature then and had been much more prepared for his death than she had been with her mother's.  The one comfort she had with her father's passing was that he and his beloved wife were once again reunited.  She thought of them often, even after moving to the Caribbean.  The bright atmosphere seemed to send her thoughts far away and up to Heaven where her parents were undoubtedly watching over her.  Melissa would smile whenever she thought of her mother's rosy cheeks and her father's broad smile.  She had never known a happier couple on this earth, and could only hope for half the satisfaction with whomever she was to marry.

But for some reason, the gardens she had spent so much time in since moving to the Caribbean had nothing to offer her this day.  Melissa knelt down and smoothed out her apron before half-heartedly moving the soft earth about and examining the roots of the various plants.  She sighed as she picked up a handful of moist soil and examined it.  It fell through her fingers, and as she watched it fall, she could not help but think of those she had lost.  They, too, had fallen through her desperate grasp.

Melissa let her hands fall to her sides.  She felt as if she was meant to be alone throughout her sad existence.  How could so many of those she had held so dear leave her?  Why had misfortune chosen her as its victim?  Melissa hung her head.  Pain swept through her delicate and soft features.  Strands of her fine blonde hair blew across her face.  Her face began to redden with emotion as one question played over and over within her mind – _Why?_

The tears remained well hidden as she looked up once more, for she could no longer bear to look at the ground.  It reminded her of funerals.  The soft earth she so delicately handled for her flowers was the very same earth that claimed her dearest friends.  She could take no more.  Melissa gathered herself up and began to walk back into the house, but not before gazing into the humble little rose bush to the left of the door.  It struck her, but she knew not why.  She had never had any luck with roses, though she could not understand why their importance was suddenly so apparent.  Then she finally remembered.

Melissa nearly ran up to her room and began to sort quickly through her piles of saved letters.  Dozens upon dozens of papers scattered across the desk as she continued her frantic search.  Minutes later, she discovered what she was looking for – an old letter from Katherine, written four years ago after they had departed company in London.  Melissa covered her mouth as she began to read.

_My Dearest Melissa,_

_How good it is to hear from you!  I daresay I shall sincerely miss our friendly banter, though I hope that my departure will not cause ill feelings between you and I.  I cannot fathom not having a dear friend like you about to converse and gossip with.  My father does not believe in such things, you know.  'Women should avoid engaging in such waste of breath,' he says.  It is as if simple chatter will bring his entire livelihood to a terrible end.  How mother ever survived him I shall never know.  It is no matter.  I received a letter from my brother, James, last week and I was thrilled to hear he has been given command of a vessel and granted the rank of Captain. 'Master and Commander,' he says.  He is still a Lievtenant by the sounds of it, but with the authority of a captain.  Captain at 27!  That is positively unheard of. It seems as if he is finding great success in the Caribbean – I should like to go there someday.  It would be nothing less than a relief to my being to escape the dreary London atmosphere and sail somewhere exotic._

_My eldest brother, Thomas, was blessed with his first born not more than three weeks ago.  I am an aunt to a lovely little girl.  I suppose I shall have to teach her all the fine intricacies of everything that is being a member of London society.  _

_I hope that you are well and life is blessing you with great things.  Send my compliments to your dear father.  _

_And do try to stay out of the rose bushes, Melissa!_

_Yours,_

_Katherine Norrington_

Melissa sank to the floor.  Rose bushes.  She could remember now when she and Katherine had gotten into a great deal of trouble passing through some public gardens.  It would not have been a problem if Melissa had not snagged her dress a hundred times over on a bed of rose bushes.  She and Katherine emerged minutes later, the stitching in their dresses and petticoats ripped and pulled apart.  However embarrassing that might have been, they came out laughing about it later.  Since then Melissa was careful to avoid rose bushes, and Katherine was careful to remind her without fail.

_Katherine, dear Katherine!  Why must you be taken?  You had not yet begun to live…_Melissa sat there, her tall and thin frame slumped on the floor, and allowed memories to flood her head.  Four years she and Katherine had spent in each other's company, and it was more than enough time to create lifelong memories.  How hard Katherine had tried to teach Melissa the art of painting, and how hard Melissa had tried to master it.  One such episode ended in both girls emerging from the parlor with their faces and hair covered in oil paint.  Mr. Reynolds found it rather funny; Mr. Norrington however, was less than amused.  Her father's constant reprimands never bothered Katherine, and Melissa admired her security.  Katherine knew what she wanted at all times.  Melissa, on the other hand, was less confident and outgoing than her companion.  Oftentimes Katherine would be confident enough for the both of them.  

How Melissa missed her.  She allowed her head to fall forward as she thought about moving on.  She now felt quite alone without anyone to turn to.  Marcus, her younger brother, was trying desperately to aid his sister, but he could only do so much.  Her uncle, Joshua Meyerson, was quite supportive, but at the same time had to focus on his merchant vessels.  Melissa thought of James, but could not bring herself to go to him.  She had seen in his eyes the pain she had been feeling, only perhaps sharper.  She wanted to speak to him the day of the funeral, but nothing of value came to her tongue.  She could sense a barrier between her and James, and it worried her.  Melissa began to feel as if the one person she needed to talk to was beyond her reach.

"Melissa?" a soft voice called from the open doorway.  She looked up and saw Marcus standing there, a worried expression worn on his features.  

Melissa smiled an embarrassed smile then quickly dried her tears.  "I'm sorry," she began as Marcus came over to assist her to her feet.  

"I did not mean to intrude.  I heard you come in hurriedly and thought to check in on you," he said as she turned to face him.  Melissa suddenly noticed how tall he was getting.  Marcus was only fifteen, yet he was nearly her height already.  She smiled faintly once more.

"That was good of you.  I was just looking at some old correspondences, that is all…" 

"Of Miss Norrington's?" Marcus asked after a moment of hesitation.

"Yes."  Melissa's eyes fell to the floor.  Marcus watched her for a moment and then drew a slow breath.  He, too, had become accustomed to losing those around him, and he knew what it was to feel alone.  He was initially angry at his parents' deaths, but with Melissa's coaxing he had grown to accept them.  He always had his sister to guide him, but he knew not how it was for her, with no one for her to look up to and follow.  

"I look forward to seeing the Commodore again," Marcus remarked in an effort to draw his sister's attention to another subject.  "He has been good enough to teach me a bit of fencing in the past few weeks.  He says I have been making remarkable improvements."

Melissa only smiled briefly and fumbled with her apron.  "Perhaps the Commodore will call on us one day soon."

"He thinks I have great potential as an officer," Marcus noted, folding his hands behind his back and emulating the stance he had seen so many times out of those in His Majesty's Service.  Melissa turned and looked to her younger brother.  He was maturing faster than she had ever imagined, and soon he would be finding his own path, undoubtedly in the Navy.  She could see him sailing off on the proud ships and serving king and country.  But one thought she could not bear was him leaving and never coming back.  Her heart skipped a beat at the thought, and she took a step toward Marcus and too his hands in hers.

"I have no doubt in my mind you will be everything you dream of," she started softly.  "But you must promise me one thing, Marcus."

His eyes looked up into hers as his brow furrowed slightly.  "Anything," he whispered.

Melissa hesitated as she looked him.  "Don't ever leave me."  Marcus nodded and drew his sister into a warm embrace.  He did not have to ask after her meaning, for he already knew.

*

A week had passed since Katherine's funeral.  James had spent a majority of that time alone in his office at Fort Charles, pouring over ships' muster books, logs, fort rosters…nearly everything in order to keep his sharp mind focused.  Wherever he went outside the Fort seemed to remind him of Katherine.  He had sent a letter off to his family in London only days before, after spending many sleepless nights over the tragic events and how best to inform everyone at home.  Even as he sat down behind his desk and dipped his quill into the ink he did not know what he was going to say.  He had gone through at least five drafts of the notice before finally settling on one that left him at ease.  For an hour he struggled with the paper, his mind unable to express the terrible news, and his hand unwilling to write it.  Three drafts were crumpled and subsequently thrown in the rubbish – it was after a fourth failed attempt that James finally broke down and wept alone in the dead of night, his head resting on his desk and his tears soaking the parchment.  

He was doing the one thing he had never imagined himself doing.  Time and time again he had sent notifications of sailors' or marines' deaths, and sometimes those lost were quite close to him; however, he never could fathom writing of his own sister's death.  In James's mind she was a woman that deserved to live a much longer and happier life than he.  The letter would take more than a month to arrive in London.  He noted that he intended to sail with the _Dauntless_ when she set out for Portsmouth the next month for refitting, and would make his way up to London during his stay.  The time between now and then would be nothing less than agony for James.  He would be forced to count down the days to his most undignified return.

It was another bright Saturday over Port Royale.  The sun and sky seemed to have forgotten the dreary atmosphere and agonizing scene a week before.  All about the town activities were continuing on as they always had.  James was sitting in his office reviewing the list of stores for Fort Charles and the three Royal Navy vessels under his command.  He had also been looking over the last correspondence he had received from a Captain Joseph Moody from Plymouth.  Moody was due to arrive in Port Royale prior to the _Dauntless's_ departure with his 60-gun fourth rate to take over patrols while Norrington and his first rate were out of the waters.  He would be a useful, if only temporary, addition to the Port Royale fleet.

James had been studying the notes Moody sent along on the HMS _Gallant_ when a knock fell upon his door.  He looked up and paused before bidding the person to enter.  The door opened and James could tell by the distinct feathering on the wide-brimmed hat who had arrived.  Governor Weatherby Swann strode confidently into the room, followed right after by Lievtenant Gillette.  James stood up to greet them.

"Commodore," greeted Weatherby as he removed his hat.  Gillette followed suit.  "How do I find you this fine afternoon?"

"Trying to keep my head above the water, Governor Swann," Norrington remarked.  He could see the Governor's partially concealed look of worry.  Weatherby made no secret of his concern for his finest officer.  The pair had spent nine years now in each other's company, and Swann had known what it was to lose someone so dear.  He, too, had seen Norrington nearly destroyed by the whole incident, and was more than sympathetic to the man who had helped bring him so much success.

"It seems as if you are weathering the storm," Swann commented with a hopeful tone.  His smile faded some as he watched the Commodore's eyes fall to the floor.  Weatherby shifted his stance and cleared his throat before beginning what was a most unfortunate discussion, and one he did not look forward to.  "I regret that I have not sought you out before now on this issue, but I have a piece of information I would care to share with you regarding the conduct of one of your officers."

Norrington looked up to the Governor.  "Of course, sir.  Please, Lievtenant, if you would be so kind as to close the door."

*

Outrage.  Sheer, unbridled outrage swept through the Commodore.  It was an emotion he was unaccustomed to and was by no means comfortable with.  Throughout his life and career he had sought to maintain a strict sense of discipline, but he found he could not do so now.  On the outside he appeared as collected as ever, but inside, James was seething.  _How dare Martin, that insolent bastard_, he thought as he strode out of his office and down the corridor, Lievtenant Gillette on his heels and Governor Swann struggling to keep up.

Under any other circumstance Norrington would have acted differently, particularly if there were men around.  He had never been anything but proper in front of those under him.  But now was another story.  Now _was_ the time for rash actions.  Norrington was more than pleased to find the corridor deserted and Captain Thomas Martin alone in his office.  The Commodore burst in without knocking and found a surprised Martin behind his desk.

"Good…Sitting on your hands as usual I see, that is just splendid," Norrington spat as Governor Swann and Gillette entered the room.  "I have known you to do some despicable deeds, but not to force yourself upon a lady of respected society." 

Martin looked around the room and paused before answering with a visibly fake demeanor.  "Good afternoon, Commodore, to what do I owe the pleasure of your fine company?" he asked, with a certain venom in his tone.  Norrington stepped around the desk and stopped only a foot away from Martin's face.

"I want an explanation this very instant," he declared as he tried to maintain some vestige of civility.

"Well, you take such _fine_ care of those close to you, if you don't mind my saying," Martin remarked with little hesitation.  _Damn them, damn the Admiralty for this ridiculous assignment, and damn protocol_, Martin thought.  He would say whatever he pleased now. 

James had heard enough.  Martin was taken by surprise when he was pulled from his chair and thrown up against the wall in one swift motion.  Trinkets rattled and fell from the windowsill as the Commodore pinned Martin against the wall and pressed his forearm to the smaller man's fat throat.  Amidst his surprise, Martin managed to stare up to his angered superior - fire was in Norrington's eyes and his jaw clenched with fury.

"Give me _one_ reason why I shouldn't throttle the life out of you," James growled as he pressed a little harder against Martin's throat.  Matthieu stepped up to Norrington's right and put his hand on his friend's shoulder to help calm him.  James hardly acknowledged Gillette's presence as he stared down at Martin.  He then leaned swiftly into Martin with his arm and then removed his grip.  Martin came crashing to the floor, gasping for breath.  

"There is a frigate leaving out of Port Antonio next week, and you will be on it on your way back to Portsmouth with a severe letter of reprimand," Norrington declared, the angry emotion still present in his voice.  "I have seen enough of your wretched face in my service.  You, sir, are finished."

And with that, the Commodore swung around and exited with Gillette and Governor Swann, leaving Martin once again alone in his office.  His undermining of Norrington's authority had come to an end.  Lievtenant Gillette smiled a private, smug smile as the trio strode down the corridor.  He had been waiting some time to see Captain Martin dealt what was coming to him, and was a bittersweet victory in light of all that had happened.  Governor Swann followed Norrington with a new appreciation for the younger man's resolve.  Never before had he seen the Commodore display a temper, but in this case he was willing to dismiss it without a second thought.  

Matthieu stopped suddenly in the corridor as he realized James was not returning to his office.  "Where are you going?" he called.  Governor Swann came to a halt as well.

James kept walking purposefully to the stables.  He called over his shoulder, "To apologize to Miss Reynolds for the wrong that has been done."


	31. Scars Run Deep

Scars Run Deep****

"Bloody unbelievable," Norrington muttered as he saddled Darby quickly in the Fort's stable, the venom still pulsing in his voice. "The man deserves a hundred lashes for what he has done, but he won't get it." James reached down around the horse's barrel and grasped the girth to attach it. Darby grunted slightly at the hasty adjustment, but continued mouthing his hay as his owner continued his personal tirade.

Why he had not ordered a court-martial for Martin sooner, James could not say. Martin was insubordinate, brash, and completely inappropriate at times and deserved far more than he received. James closed his eyes before resting his head against the saddle and sighing. Martin was his problem, and should have been dealt with far sooner. James knew that it was because he was a green commander in the scope of His Majesty's Service – Post Captain by 30 is an achievement in itself, but only a year later he was appointed Commodore, commanding Fort Charles and the Port Royale fleet. He did not realize how unprepared he actually was.

Punishing those under one's command is never an easy task, no matter how removed the commander makes himself. Norrington had never had to punish his men severely; the occasional charge of drunkenness earned the unfortunate sailor 12 lashes, and was usually accompanied by another dozen for neglect of duty, or other minor offences that were caused by the original inebriation in the first place. The most severe punishment Norrington ordered was on two sailors that had been caught for desertion not more than three years prior. They were flogged and returned to duty as protocol demanded.

The Articles of War dictated the crimes and the punishment, but they never made the actual deed easy on anyone. Punishments were carried out publicly on board, all hands present, and a squad of armed Marines standing by to assure the punishment was carried out without interruption. The ship's officers presided as the crew watched and learned from the unfortunate sailor's mistakes. Public humiliation was often just as great and profound as the cat 'o nine tails itself.

_That_ is what Martin deserved, James thought as straightened himself up and adjusted the horse's breastplate. He deserved to have all of Port Royale there and mocking him for his inappropriate decisions. He deserved to see his command ripped out from under him and given to another officer. He deserved to feel the full effects of that knotted rope upon his back. But Norrington knew what faced him was probably more grim. More grim, perhaps, but not nearly as satisfying.

James reprimanded himself for wanting such revenge. Martin would soon find himself in front of a board assembled by the Admiralty itself, facing charges ranging from neglecting orders, contempt of superior, delay of action against the enemy, disobedience of superior, infamous behavior, and anything else Norrington could stack against him that Martin undoubtedly deserved. Several of the charges on their own called for death; if found guilty of any of those, Martin would be facing a firing squad. Each additional charge did nothing to help Martin's case, and James knew inside that there was little chance of anything but the drop of a handkerchief and the end of Martin's life. And the Commodore knew he would never feel comforted by that fact.

Martin's ridiculous actions were enough to frustrate James, but what he felt now was not frustration – it was _outrage_. True, the laws of the sea governed Norrington's life and he held them in the highest regard, but for some reason it was not Martin's dereliction of duty that made him see red during that recent, violent encounter. It was not Martin's damned attitude that made James want to strangle the life out of him. No, it was the idea of Martin putting his hands on Miss Reynolds that enraged James so.

He paused after he slid the bridle over Darby's silver ears. James had never admitted his feelings for Miss Reynolds to anyone – and hardly admitted them to himself. He was so cautious now in the affairs of the heart that it was infinitely less painful to simply continue on has he always had – single, alone, and wounded. Elizabeth's rejection was painful enough in that he lost the woman he loved, but though he was over her loss and pleased she was happy with her husband, the hurt returned whenever he thought of declaring his love for another. Rejection was something he did not want to bear again.

Commodore Norrington had faced many a blade in his successful career. He had been wounded several times, and stared death in the face in the form of flying rounds, falling rigging, splintering wood, piercing balls fired from above, and full on broadsides from enemy line of battle ships. But cold steal was tangible; it was something he could see, parry, and avoid. It could be pulled from his body and his physical form could be healed. He understood those deadly objects. But emotion was not something he could see, touch, or understand easily. Love, loss, and learning to love again were confusing and painful. It wounded him in ways that could not be sutured, and the scars ran deep.

Life in His Majesty's Service was in many ways a simple one. James knew his duty and pursued it until it was completed. His orders were always straightforward, the initiative never lost. The enemy was to be engaged and destroyed, and the Crown defended. It was written in ink and there for all to see. Kill or be killed was often the way of it, though that was hardly how action was described in polite society. The line was drawn, and was clear as night and day.

But that line was blurred with the events surrounding the _Black Pearl_. James had to choose between his duty and the moral right. He wanted to save the one Elizabeth loved as a deed to her, but it would cost him and his men. Many paid with their lives, and it hurt Norrington greatly to think about that. And then there was Jack Sparrow – James recognized his good intentions. He was a good man, but he was a pirate, and duty told Norrington that Sparrow must hang. But his _emotion_ said no. The confusion he felt that day on the battlements would never be forgotten.

James mounted Darby and urged him on into a canter down toward Meyerson's elegant home. The grey gelding's cadenced gait rocked gently underneath his rider. It was like the gentle rocking of the waves, James noted as they continued down the road. A knot began to form in his stomach as he rode on. He had conversed with Miss Reynolds many times since her arrival in Port Royale. She was an utterly charming lady, that he knew. He felt comfortable in her relaxed presence. She was soft-spoken, unlike Katherine, but demonstrated her own form of resolve. He admired her quiet strength, having lost most of her family and packing up her life to start anew in another part of the world.

But now the situation was different. He had wanted to talk to her several times since Katherine's death, but he simply could not bring himself to. He did not know what to say, and his focus was simply gone with his sister's quick passing. However, James knew that those awkward moments did not matter now. Miss Reynolds had been done wrong, and he had a moral obligation to make it right.

He slowed Darby to a walk as he entered the drive, then dismounted and tied the horse to the hitching post as he removed his uniform hat and placed it neatly under his arm. James knocked on the door and waited, taking in the simple, yet elegant collections of flowers on either side of the house. Moments later a servant answered the door and invited the Commodore in as he retrieved Miss Reynolds. Marcus heard the knock as well and put his book aside to enter the receiving room and was quite pleased with the discovery.

"Commodore, it is a great pleasure to see you again, sir," Marcus greeted as he performed a quick little bow.

James turned from the vase he was studying and mustered a quick smile. "As always, Mister Reynolds, I am pleased to come, though I regret the reason for my visit is less than pleasurable." Norrington paused for a moment before folding his hands casually behind his back and fingering the gold brocade of his hat. "I trust you are still eager to learn more of the art of fencing?" he asked the lad, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

Marcus's face lit up. "As ever, sir! I cannot thank you enough for taking the time to teach me. It is most generous of you, sir."

James expressed a fleeting smile as he glanced to the floor. As he looked back up, he discovered Melissa at the top of the stairs. He paused as he tried to find his voice. "Miss Reynolds - " he began.

"Commodore! My goodness, how relieving it is to see you," Melissa greeted. Her delicate hand flew to her chest as she quickly made her way down the stairs.

James was a bit taken back by her worried tone and obvious show of concern. He always considered her to act genuinely, but like most social ladies, she was always so composed and proper. As she approached him now, he could see the redness around her eyes, and the knot in his stomach returned. He drew a hesitant breath. "Miss Reynolds, apologize for my intrusion, but if you at all have the time to spare, I must speak with you."

"Of course," she said as she looked around for an appropriate area for them to converse. Marcus nodded to himself and offered to return upstairs. Melissa led James into an adjacent room.

"Commodore, if I may first say how very sorry I am about Katherine," she declared. She was now trying to say the thing she could not manage to before.

"Thank you," Norrington replied quietly.

"I suppose it was just her time," Melissa said, unsure of where to take the conversation. She looked down. "I will miss her more than I can fathom."

James looked out the large picture window and paused. "As will I." A great silence fell over them as they both failed to look at each other and continue. Melissa sensed that wall she had feared forming between them. She moved to speak, but James spoke first.

"Miss Reynolds," he started stiffly. "It has recently come to my attention that a great wrong has been done to you." He glanced over to her. Melissa furrowed her brow slightly in confusion and urged him silently to continue. "I was informed today that two weeks ago, you had an unfortunate encounter with Captain Martin…"

"Yes, but I hardly think that matters now," Melissa said, shaking her head. James looked over to her once more.

"Whatever he did, Miss Reynolds, I apologize. He had no right to act in such a manner in a lady's presence. Martin is a scoundrel and will now be dealt with to the highest form of the law for his past actions." James paused and allowed his eyes to fall to the floor. "I regret I was not there to keep him from laying his hands on you," he said solemnly, thinking back to that dreadful day. Her encounter with Martin occurred as James was riding headlong into oblivion after being practically destroyed by the news of Katherine's death. He was not there to help on that he loved because he was devastated from losing another.

Melissa's eyes, too, fell to the floor. She understood the point he was making and it pained her to think of it. "James please, please do not trouble yourself over this. It happened right after you had heard of…Considering what had happened, it does not matter anymore," she whispered.

"It does," he said as he took a step toward her and looked into her beautiful grey eyes. It mattered now because he knew he loved her. He loved her soft smile, her golden hair, her calm demeanor, and her sense of humor. He loved the way she laughed and teased in Katherine's presence, and hoped that he, too, could share in her laughter. James remembered the short time he, Katherine, and Melissa had been able to spend together. He remembered Katherine's constant sermons on being true to one's heart. What he had usually dismissed as ramblings from the romantic younger sister, he now took to be truth. James felt emboldened as he took Melissa's hand delicately in his and led her to the sofa. They sat and he turned to her once again.

"It matters more than you know, Melissa," he began. James could feel his heart beat faster as her Christian name sounded on his lips. He felt more and more anxious with each passing second as the thought of what he was about to say flew from his heart to his head. He drew a long breath and spoke confidently. "It was wrong of Martin, terribly wrong. But it was wrong of me also…I should never have allowed him to lay a hand on the woman I love."

Melissa's eyes flew from the sofa up to his. As improper as it was, she could not help but allow her mouth to fall open in complete surprise. Her heart skipped not one beat, but several as she looked at him. James tilted his head slightly as he allowed a boyish smile to take over his face. It felt like an enormous weight had been lifted off his shoulders. It was a bold move by a man who normally avoided such things. But James was beginning to discover that like a threat upon the ocean, love needed to be met head on.

He looked to Melissa now, the smile still controlling his expression. He nearly felt like laughing for the first time since Katherine's death. He watched Melissa's cheeks flush as she looked down to the sofa once more. But as she looked down, that soft smile of hers appeared. She looked back up to James and stared into his emerald eyes.

"This may not be entirely appropriate," he said. "Lord knows I should still be grieving over her death, but I should doubt that Katherine would have it any other way."

Melissa's thoughts flew back to the last time she saw Katherine before the accident, when they were discussing James's affection and Katherine made it more than clear of her matchmaking intentions. "No," Melissa began, the smile widening on her face. "I do not think she would!"

There was a sudden, sinking feeling in James's stomach. The smile faded some from his face, and Melissa grew concerned. The enormous thing weighing on James's mind was written on his expression.

"What's wrong, James?" Melissa asked, placing a hand over his.

James's glance moved to the floor. He loved her. He had loved her from the moment she stepped off the _Cavalier_ months before. He saw his sister in her, but more importantly, he saw who she was, and wanted to be apart of her life. But what right did he have to her? He had not inquired to Joshua Meyerson at all, and her father was dead…Lord, why was he thinking like this! People will look upon him poorly, seeing that he should still be mourning the loss of his dear sister. But James knew that Katherine would not have him moping about in sadness and self-hate. If there was one thing she tried to teach him, it was to throw caution to the wind and follow what his heart told him. He owed it to her to try it at least once.

James looked slowly back up to Melissa. He stared at her for several moments as he thought what to say. Melissa shook her head. "Please James, if there is something troubling you, I should like to help…" Her plea was cut short as James held up a hand and allowed his smile to return.

"Katherine once told me that affairs of the heart require a little trust," he began quietly. "I know I have been rather difficult to become acquainted with. I am quite sure Katherine attempted to explain me to you on more than one occasion, but I realize it might have been frustrating for you. I apologize. I have never been true to my affections because they have always gotten me into trouble, but perhaps that is because I never trusted them. I have always thought highly of you, Miss Reynolds, but I can now honestly say that I have great feelings for you, Melissa. I like to believe that you think quite highly of the Commodore, but I should like to help you become more acquainted with James."

Melissa smiled, but looked at him suspiciously. His words were like poetry to her, but without the verse. It seemed like it could come out of Shakespeare – their favorite point of discussion. "You hint, but do not say, James Norrington. You are terribly like your sister in that respect," she teased. He nearly chuckled at her remark. James felt his heart beating faster once more as he looked softly into her eyes and mustered the courage to do one of the boldest things he had ever done.

"I love you."

A bright, hopeful smile commandeered Melissa's expression. She felt her heart skip in her bosom at the sound of those three, simple words. Her feelings for this man who had tasted love and loss and managed to climb out from the ruin to love again flew to new heights. She found herself wrapping her arms around James's neck and resting her head on his shoulder.

"How was that for a broadside?" he asked playfully. Melissa only looked up into his eyes and laughed.


	32. Into The Horizon

Into The Horizon

Dusk was perhaps James Norrington's favorite time of day. It was an opportunity to reflect on the day gone by and prepare for the day to come. There was a sort of serenity that accompanied the soft hues in the sky. A brilliant array of oranges and pinks painted the horizon out before him like oil on a canvas. The sun hung low in the sky, lingering for one last glimpse of the world out before her.

Through it all blew a sweet sea breeze whose rich scent filled the air and the gallants of the HMS _Dauntless_. Her white canvas ruffled in the gentle wind, pulling her on her way into the golden scene waiting ahead. Her crew walked along her weather deck, some in shoes, others barefoot. Marines looked on at attention in their scarlet uniforms while top men climbed through the rigging above.

The _Dauntless_'s bow cut through the water effortlessly, sending bow waves off to either side of her. The ocean seemed to embrace the ship as it flowed around her, across her beam, and finally behind her as she made her way. It was the soft disturbance in the water that drew Commodore Norrington's eyes down as he leaned against the taff rail, seemingly lost in deep thought. He watched quietly as the waves embraced the smooth lines of the vessel as she passed, allowing the gentle roll and soft slapping of the water against her hull to lull him even deeper into contemplation. Eventually James moved over to the starboard rail and spread his hands along the carved wood as he continued to look out to sea.

He had much to reflect upon. It had been nearly a year since Katherine had died. James had experienced a long list of emotions in that time, but most recently he felt at peace. Through the strife, self-destruction, despair and sadness finally emerged a sense of calm. Katherine's death ripped the heart out of his chest and threatened to destroy him, but he finally recognized that though she had been taken from this world, Katherine's legacy had not. Indeed it seemed that he had to lose her before her message could get through to his very being. Tragic though her final moments may have been, her words were not lost upon her brother. Never in a thousand lifetimes would he ever forget what she tried to say.

James let out a near inaudible chuckle and smirked at the memory of his sister. Her smile and her ridiculous persistence always were the first things he thought of when remembering Katherine. His thoughts would then move to the type of person she was, what she believed in, what she had brought into his life and the lives of those around her. James visited her grave once a week without fail and spent much time talking to the wind and bringing an arrangement of wildflowers or other things he found along the way. Initially he diligently removed the moss that was creeping in on the headstone and kept it clean, but he soon thought better of it. Katherine was loved by many. James for better or worse had always considered himself a rolling stone with only the slightest bit of moss, but Katherine made an impression wherever she went. He would let the moss grow from now on.

How happy James had been when he stood before Katherine's grave and told her of his plans to marry Melissa! There was a sort of fluttering within him that he could not ignore. He recalled to Katherine the events of that day. Months had passed since he confessed his love for Miss Reynolds, and the time passed with the courting rituals, dinner engagements, long walks and rides to more of the remote parts of the island. The high society of Port Royale gawked and whispered to each other over such a hasty interest by the Commodore, but to him there was nothing rushed about it. He had loved Melissa since the first day he saw her, and as he came to know her better, came to admire her quiet strength and character that was not outwardly visible to the rest of the world. The entire time he had only been repressing his true feelings.

James waited nearly a week for the right moment to propose to her. The rain which plagued the days before had finally broken, leaving him with a sunny opportunity to ask Melissa for her hand. The picnic he had planned was pleasant with the exception of the damp grass that soaked their blanket and had done a fine job on their clothing. It was truly a laughing matter, however, and once she had regained her composure, James looked over to her and removed the ring from his pocket. Melissa's hand lowered slowly from her face to her chest as she could only manage a stare in strict disbelief. They were silent for a moment before James mustered up the courage. He took her joyful tears and throwing herself at him hard enough to send them both backward into the bread as an acceptance of his proposal.

The wedding was intended to be a smallish affair yet still managed to attract the whole upper society of Port Royale. Ladies with their fans and men in their wigs and walking sticks mingled about, filling the air with gossip and the occasional deep laugh. James had spent the majority of the morning being a wreck with nerves and anticipation. Matthieu counted the 12 times the Commodore had checked his uniform in the mirror and the relentless tapping of his fingers upon the table when he finally did sit down.

Melissa, too, had spent her morning trying to occupy her mind. As she sat and looked at herself in the mirror, her thoughts turned to her mother who was no longer with her and her father who would not be there to walk her down the aisle. She hoped beyond all hope that at the very least they could see her on this day and were smiling from above. Delicately and with a sense of reverence she fingered the gold necklace that hung about her neck as she studied herself in the mirror. She traced her left brow with her finger, down along her face and finally covering her lips softly and closing her eyes to her reflection.

_"I should not have it any other way!"_ Katherine's words resounded in Melissa's head. Her impossible enthusiasm and smile, her wit and cunning, and her satisfaction all seemed to be embodied in those few words. Melissa could only see Katherine's broad grin when she confessed her fancy for James. As she sat there alone in her dressing room reflecting upon the past, Melissa choked back a quick sob that threatened to shake her body and her composure. She opened her eyes after a moment and settled herself once more. She would not allow herself to be undone. She thought of her honest love for James and Katherine's enthusiasm toward the two of them, and found strength in that memory. She took a stronger hold of the angel about her neck and whispered, "It will be so."

Whoever thought Commodore Norrington could become such a wreck over something so simple, so true? It involved no cannon, no blades, and no possibility of death. And yet he stood there at the alter calling upon every ounce of composure to simply keep from shaking. He was not a man to become weakened enough for spirits, but at this moment he would have done quite well to have two glasses of wine – one for each hand. He looked through the crowd and tried to keep his composed façade about him. There was Governor Swann, grinning his satisfied little grin amidst his enormous grey wig. He found Elizabeth sitting one row back with Will, who was looking rather uncomfortable in his new suit. Elizabeth, however, appeared glowing as always and glanced back at James with a soft smile. Their eyes locked for a moment as James allowed a thankful smile to creep across his mouth as well.

"You look as if you need a drink," Matthieu said from behind James's left shoulder.

"Whatever do you mean?" James asked in a whisper, still looking from Elizabeth to the surrounding crowd.

"Oh, you know _exactly_ what I mean," Gillette teased as he elbowed his friend playfully.

"Run for a glass of spirits right now and I'll be obliged to knock yer bloomin' teeth out," whispered Quinlan from the other side of Gillette. "And I wouldn't want to be doin' that since you've already spent the mornin' getting' yer uniform so pretty."

"That's quite enough, the both of you," Norrington whispered through his teeth as the quartet filled the air with harmonies and Mr. Meyerson and Melissa appeared from around the corner. James was awestruck. He reminded himself to breathe as she approached him at a painfully slow pace. Her pale blue dress was truly a sight, but in his eyes, it was nothing in comparison to her face. He smiled to himself and to her for she truly was a vision. And as she approached the sun glinted off the jewelry around her neck and James's heart seemed to skip a beat. It was Katherine's angel necklace, the necklace she was holding as she died and the one he had given to Matthieu.

James glanced over his shoulder. Matthieu stared back at him, a slightly pained, but relieved look on his face. That morning he had visited Melissa and given her one of the few things he had to remember Katherine by. But he knew that this small token went far beyond a simple piece of gold. James looked at him now and smiled down at him. Matthieu was healing, and he was thankful, for now another piece of him could heal as well.

The ceremony went without fail. No dropping of rings, forgetting of vows, or unanticipated visits by a certain pirate who had an affection for weddings. Short, simple, and though Norrington was a seasoned officer in the King's Navy, he wished to avoid the pomp and circumstance that surrounded these events. He and Melissa did not need the extra bit of attention that other couples desired. They found Gillette's dancing later that night to be entertainment enough.

Back on the deck of the HMS _Dauntless_, James still stood along the taff rail, gazing out beyond her sails and into the horizon before him. The sky was now a sort of softening orange with streaks of purple clouds running through it. The sun was sinking ever so cautiously, turning the ocean below into a fiery mix of deepening blue, orange, and pink. The vibrant colors reminded him of the painting hanging in his sitting room at home. Katherine had painted such a scene for James years before, the horizon bright and captivating, surrounding the proud ship sailing off into the horizon.

Into the horizon, indeed. James now looked forward to the horizon and the future his life held with Melissa. Without Katherine constantly poking them, they would have to find their own way together, and it was a journey he was eager to take. His one regret was that his sister was not able to make her own journey. Or perhaps she already had. Perhaps by some unique twist of fate _he_ was her journey. Perhaps her entire reason for coming back into his life was to help him in ways no one else could, and he was thankful for her companionship, her sacrifice, and her forgiveness.

He closed his eyes momentarily as he thought of her, allowing himself to take in the sounds of the wind, waves, and crew working around him.

Despite all that had happened, the ocean still was a means of security for James. It was a place of honor, duty, danger, and wonderful things such as mystery, passion, and escape. It was a bit like love, Norrington thought. It held something different for each person. Interpreting one's feelings for another was not something that could be determined in a book or in the Articles of War. It's meaning was special and unique; it was in its very own way a sort of freedom from the world. Despite all that could happen, a person still had love to carry them through. They could weather the storms and hardships, survive the shipwrecks, ride the tides, and sail through life pushed by the desire to love and be loved by another. Love was an ocean – a deep and timeless sea whose depths provided a wealth of happiness or sorrow. And it was up to the person to discover its treasures.

James breathed deep the sweet sea air. His love for the sea was a different sort of love that surrounded him with satisfaction and meaning. It touched him in ways that no other human being could; it excited his soul and freed his mind. But he did not look at it the same way others did. He remembered how Sparrow glanced across the water and held a sort of gleam in his eye. Norrington now understood how Jack Sparrow love the sea – he loved it as James love Melissa. _The Black Pearl_ was freedom, adventure, and companionship to Sparrow, much like Melissa was to her new husband. James chuckled. And as he looked out across the ocean, he could nearly envision the tall sails and black hull gliding off into the horizon, her master at the helm smiling a clever, golden smile.

THE END.


	33. Thank You

A note from L.M. Colburn:

When I started work on "Broadsides" in August 2003, I never envisioned it becoming the work that it is today. What started out as an attack by killer muses and intended to be a short story soon changed into a full-length novel, and I thank you, my readers, for helping me get it there. Without you, this story would have died long ago without being fully told.

I am truly sorry for not updating this in a timely and reasonable fashion, especially where it was so close to the end. I've been through a lot in the last few months that have kept me away from working on this novel, and looking back I regret that I didn't finish it when I had the hearts and minds of my readers. But in any case I hope I've brought closure to the story and to a thought that has been in my head since I first saw POTC well over a year ago.

Thank you for your kind words and encouragement, for it has truly meant a lot to me, and helped me discover that writing is an option I will always have available to me as a career. Thank you for making my first attempt at creative writing (yep, that's true..."Broadsides" was an experiment!) a success and one I can look back on with a sense of pride.

Do I have plans for a sequel? No. I feel this storyline has come full circle and now it is up to your imagination to decide where it shall lead. I would, however, like to one day transform this into an original work and perhaps see it published.

Once again I would like to express my deepest sense of gratitude to you, the reader. Please feel free to email me at with any questions regarding "Broadsides."

Thank you,

L.M. Colburn


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